


Another one where Aziraphale gets his shit together (Crowley cries in this one)

by witchspellbook



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Cries, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale wants that cock, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Blasphemy, Body Worship, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottoming from the Top, Come Eating, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley cries, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hair-pulling, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Multi, Nipple Play, Other, Panic Attacks, Pillow Princess Crowley (Good Omens), Rimming, So much smut, Somnophilia, Talk about consent, Talk about feelings, Teasing, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, What Have I Done, cursing, dom-ish Aziraphale, find the lyric, they are switches bitches, walking and talkng anxiety attack crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchspellbook/pseuds/witchspellbook
Summary: “Oh, dear, I apologize in advance for I’m afraid I’m about to do something reckless.” he says gently putting his hands of Crowley’s chest.The next thing Crowley knows is that he is being slammed against a wall, air knocked out of him, warm angel clinging to the neck of his tank top.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I dont really like the title i may change it.
> 
> There will be slight angst in further chapters...

> “Dear boy: 
> 
> I’m bound to act on impulse, if you haven’t seen me in a week after reading this note, I’ve gotten cold feet.
> 
> Yours truly Aziraphale”

Crowley barely has time to read the card that has miraculously appeared in front of him in his office when he hears the door of his apartment slam open. They’ve come for him. He is sure of it; they’ve come for him again and now he has no holy water and his angel may as well gone missing for at least week. In a panicked frenzy he grabs hold of his plant’s water bottle and fumbles around for a letter opener, he breathes once, deep and actually thanks God that the angel is probably AWOL. He puts on his dark glasses and heads to his living room stopping to peek from the door ajar.

“Crowley? I know you are here I can sense you” he hears from his hiding spot behind the rotating door, he relaxes and crosses the door, still shaking, when he recognises the frantic voice as Aziraphale, which is confusing but at least it means they are not in imminent danger. “There you are” the angel says meeting him in the middle of the room and Crowley can see that he looks restless, hectic “Oh, dear, I apologize in advance for I’m afraid I’m about to do something reckless.” he says gently putting his hands of Crowley’s chest, and isn’t that weird?

The next thing Crowley knows is that he is being slammed against a wall, air knocked out of him, warm angel clinging to the neck of his tank top. Aziraphale is kissing him and if it weren't for the fact that he could recognize the profile of Aziraphale presence with his own being he’d believe it to be an attack from Hell, a new, smart, form of torture just for him. But is Aziraphale, he can feel it in the way the air ripples around him like it comes cleaner of every breath the angel takes. He lifts his hand to hold onto the angel’s shoulders but realizes that he still has the spray bottle and letter opener, so he lets go of them to place his hands gingerly on his friend’s shoulders, he doesn't wants to startle him, in case that whatever this is is not real, it’s probably isn't anyway, he thinks, and if he makes a sudden move he knows he will wake up moody and disappointed and in dire need of a shag. But Aziraphale takes a step forward, pressing him further against the wall, slotting one of his powerful thighs between Crowley's and he almost swallows his tongue, he feels like gaping like a fish and when he opens his mouth Aziraphale’s tongue slides into it. Aziraphale is kissing him proper now, not stiff lips plastered on lips, the angel is moving, his tongue testing and tasting, one of his hands sliding up to Crowley’s neck and he can feel the angels effort now, half-mast against his tight and he feels dizzy, all his blood running downward, and his knees almost give in when Aziraphale bites softly his lower lip and dives again to kiss his still open mouth. The angel grinding his hips against him is the only thing that keeps him standing. 

Suddenly just as it started all contact is gone and Aziraphale is away from him, his face flushed and pained his hands busying themselves in each other the same way Crowley has seen the angel do whenever his nerves begin to peak.

“Oh.” He says brokenly, and Crowley doesn’t understand anything of what has happen in the last fifteen minutes, less of all how miserable the angel looks right now. “Oh, I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have imposed myself to you, I just… and I thought… and the way you look at me… oh, I’m so sorry Crowley, I’ll... I’ll take my leave” and that’s not good, that can’t be good. The angel cannot leave, they need to talk about whatever this is, Crowley needs that mouth in him again.

“Wait! no- ah- you-” he can’t fix his thoughts but at least he has gotten the angel to stop form leaving “What is happening?!” there is an edge of hysterics in his voice but he can't seem to care, the angel was kissing him, the angel was kissing him wet, deep and filthy, he had pressed his cock against his tight and now wants to leave? He can’t let that happen.

“Well, ah… you see, I’ve come to the realization that the best decisions I’ve made are those I don’t think much or… or at all,” Aziraphale says looking everywhere except at him, hands still in knots “the flaming sword both times comes to mind as possessing madame Tracy more recently... and I’ve decided that seen that I don’t have to hold back myself anymore and the fact that I missed you so terribly today and I know we saw each other yesterday but it just never feels like enough time with you and decided to get over myself and as this generations says ‘come over here and- and act on it’” he is rambling Crowley realises but he is too starstruck to try to guide him into a more sensible line of thought “but now I see that I shouldn't have and I apologise for forcing myself upon you, seen you are not interested in these kind of affections but I thought- maybe I should have just hold your hand again- but I know I shouldn't assume but I- and you linger on- and ah-I…”

“Who says I’m not interested?!” Crowley interrupts flinging his glasses across the room, he can’t see anything and he is brewing a headache out of sheer confusion and lack of blood, and if that’s the reason the angel had stopped touching him he won’t ever forgive himself for letting him on wrongly.

“You were not kissing back, dear, an-and you haven’t manifested an- an ‘Effort’, and I know you have done so for-for others...” he says miserably and Crowley, hoping he had understood this right, grabs him from the lapels of his coat and slams him against the same place where he used to be leaning, he remembers doing something like this before, an anxious impulsive action that had awaken wants that had no place for that moment. He is not nice but can be if Aziraphale wants him to. And now they are kissing again, Crowley having half a mind to participate this time, self-control keeping his tongue human shaped, self-control keeping him from falling to his knees and sucking the angel to completion right then and there.

“I’ve spend the last 11 years mostly presenting female,” he says when he comes out for the air he doesn't need, an excuse to look at Aziraphale’s flushed face, “it’s so much easier to put on this trousers like this ‘sides old habits are hard to forget” and through his dazed expression Crowley can see when his words dawn on Aziraphale, who looks quickly to his fly and then his face again and then his hands latch to Crowley’s waist to pull him in. They are kissing once more, and Crowley can feel the angel’s cock pressing against him again and with the way they are holding on against each other now he realizes how wet he’s becoming. He moans into the kiss and his hands pull at the coat so the angel would lose it and scratch over the angel’s shirt, under the waistcoat when it’s finally in the floor.

“Oh, that’s a relieve, love,” Aziraphale says between kisses “though I confess I was hoping - if everything turned all right - to feel you inside me tonight” he breath into Crowley’s mouth and he chokes on air, feels himself gush, oh his underwear is _ruined_. He realizes slightly disappointed that he is too aroused to change Efforts now, not when Aziraphale left hand is in his arse, inching closer to the crease between thigh and cheek, not when Aziraphale’s right hand is making its way up in his belly, tucking itself under his tank top, grazing against his hardening nipple.

“Are you sure about this? All of this? You won’t-you…this isn’t fast for you? We could wait and I can change…. or go for a dinner first...I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret… that comes morning you won’t change your mind.” it slips from him without meaning to and it pains him to say it but he has to know, he needs to know this is not a one-time thing, that the angel won’t regret this and leave him all alone with the weight of a half thought decision and all his burdening feelings.

“Oh darling, you don’t need to give me a way out. Since Armageddon I’ve been looking for a way to do this and I’ve been denying myself from you for thousands of years now, I’ve been so daft, my love,” Crowley stops breathing for a moment, he knows Aziraphale is going to call him that from now on and if ‘dear’ leaves him giddy for hours on end he thinks ‘love’ will make him burst into flames every time “to what makes me happy, to what is right and good, and love can’t never be a bad thing, can it, Crowley? Let alone if it helps save thousands of lives… and this is what it is, you must know, you have to know, it’s time for you to know how much I love you, I should have said it so long ago, I shouldn’t have let you dealing with your emotions on your own, not when I could see what that was making to you, what dangers it put you through how much they aligned with my own” Crowley can see the angel slip away from him in guilt, he has to stop that, he can’t have him festering in the what ifs and I should haves, not when the he has just confessed to him and he feels like he cannot fit inside his own body, not when the angel corresponds him and that’s all Crowley has ever wanted. Not when the angel’s cock is still hard and pressing against him, driving him mad with the knowledge of it.

“I love you, Aziraphale” he blurts out suddenly, to stop Aziraphale from sinking in his guilt but the angel starts trembling in his arms, his blue eyes filling with tears and Crowley doesn't know what to do, he has fucked it up again somehow, like in the bandwagon, like in the duckpond, like so many times before and he is starting to panic when Aziraphale pulls his hand out of his top and places in his face to calm him.

“Oh, Crowley,” he says, tears rolling from his eyes “no, don’t worry, it’s just- Crowley I thought I never would be able to hear you say it. I thought I was ready to hear you say it, but I've wanted to hear it for so long I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I thought I’d have to live Eternity knowing we could do nothing about it, knowing that you could never be sure of me because I couldn't say it back to you, I couldn't make you feel how much I love you.” He rubs his thumb against his cheekbone and Crowley is melting again his hand, against his words “I want to show you” he says, leaning for a peck on his lips, warm tears still rolling down his face “I want to spoil you rotten,” a kiss in his cheek and Crowley has closed his eyes, leaning against that palm still, against those words “to give you everything you want,” a kiss and a lick in the corner of his jaw and Crowley is gasping “to love you like humans do.” Another kiss behind his ear. “To love you only like an angel can” he licks his ear and nibble his lobe and Crowley legs give in, there is something cracking inside of him with every word Aziraphale gift him, the pandora box clogged to closure with bad coping mechanisms where he has shoved every feeling, every thought every fantasy and dream about a happy life, a life with Aziraphale, breaks like a damn and he is trembling violently, holding onto the angel, so terribly scared of finally having what he wants, and maybe he is crying as well, he doesn’t care.

“You, you” he says. “All I want is you, always you, forever you, I’ll keep quiet for you, stop asking questions for you, I’ll go back to Her for you.”

“I know, love, I know, but I don’t want that” he is pulling him against himself, ignoring magnanimously the fact that Crowley doesn’t seem to be able to stand on his own. “I don’t want you to be something you are not, I don’t want you in Her choirs if it makes you unhappy, I don’t want you to stop asking questions for me, I’ll answer, every one of them, even if they make me uncomfortable, and if I don’t know I’ll look for answers with you” he kiss him, long and sweet and Crowley doesn't know what to do with himself, he thinks he may just keep crying. “I do believe you have a bed somewhere, love, and I had some activities planned for the evening if everything turned all right” he changes the subject, laughing with a bastardous glint in his eyes, no more tears clouding the blue of them.

“Thought you said you hadn’t planned this” he grins, feeling better, even though he is still clinging to the angel.

“I’ve seen your flat before and have a lot of hopes and centuries old collections of erotic literature and if you don’t take me to bed in this instant I’ll see myself forced to bend you against that awful sofa and eat your bum”

Crowley makes a noise that is all consonants they are suddenly in his bedroom, bed dark and imposing only centimetres away from them and he just fall to it sitting on his arse when Aziraphale lets go of him to start pulling his bowtie off. Crowley hurries to try to get rid of his shoes, but the angel stops him.

“I told you I want to spoil you” he says kneeling in front of him, waistcoat discarded somewhere near. The angel takes one of Crowley shoes and unties the lace and removes it, then the sock, its black but has a pink cat paws in the sole, it makes the angel snicker and Crowley blush aggressively, mumbling something about Warlock giving them to him, then goes for the other shoe. “Once you walked on consecrated floor for me,” he says removing the sock and kissing each of Crowley pale soles “you were so ridiculous and gloriously heroic but you were also in pain and let me do nothing about it, and I was too stunned to pressure you” he kisses the bridge of his foot, and rubs soothing circles in the tendons, it makes Crowley leg’s hairs stand on point. Aziraphale places a kiss in one of his clothed knees and stands up “I learned that night that there was nothing I could do to stop loving you. That you loved me so good I never wanted you to stop, I’ve been so stubborn, dearest, and I’m sorry”.

“Don't be, you are here now, you have me, you've always had” Crowley shush him.

“I know, but you haven’t always had me and that stops now, so… What can I give to you, love? What do you want from me tonight?” he asks, unbuttoning his cuffs, and Crowley, damn this corporation of his, can feel his pulse in his clit. “Scoop up, love, you don't have to do anything but that tonight”

Crowley slides up in the bed, eyes fixed in the way Aziraphale is loosening the buttons of his shirt, skin that hasn't seen the sun in centuries revealing itself to him. His hand moves without thinking and he presses it against the damp spot on his crotch and pulls it in a slow line upward.

“Oh darling, don't!” the angel says scandalized, Crowley is not very sure of what. “You must let me tend to you” and he kneels on the bed and places each hand on Crowley's tights, pushing up until one of his thumbs is perfectly at high to press firmly against his clitoris and Crowley forgets how to breathe for the second time that evening “Let me get you out of his trousers, you must be suffocating in there” he says undoing his belt and fly faster than Crowley can think of a witty answer and as soon there is enough space the angel shoves his hand inside his clothes, Crowley makes a noise and grabs the angel by his open shirt and the back of his head to kiss him, Aziraphale hand moving between the fabrics, over his knickers and he just now remember that he is wearing one of his black lace hot pants and he thanks the stars for that. He gasps, breaking the kiss when the angel starts to push his finger shallow but firmly against his clothed slit, teasing, like a promise of what is to come, and Crowley hopes it’s himself on the angel’s cock. He is panting, the world spinning around him, and the only thing that has been inside of him it has been a tongue, and shouldn't they correct that, _now._

“Goodness me.” Aziraphale murmurs into his mouth, shirt rumpled and sleeves rolled up, there is something obscene on his forearms, the way the muscles move under the skin, tendons bulging, and Crowley can feel the strength of those arms holding him down so delicately. “You are absolutely soaked” he kiss him once more and then pulls away to strip him from the trousers, slowly, tortuously so, raking his perfect manicured nails over the flesh of his tights, and his hands are rough, like they’d never forgotten how to hold a sword. Aziraphale then spears a magnificent second to appreciate him and his pretty panties but rids quickly of them to pull Crowley's legs over his shoulders and scoot him so his mouth is just over his mount “would you le-”

“Yes!” Crowley hisses full of need, nails digging to the bed’s comforter, and he feels he should be embarrassed but he can’t focus on it, not when Aziraphale has just dived right into him, tongue flat against him once, from arsehole up, to place a soft kiss on his clit and then dipping once more to lick inside of him for a second, then pushing and sucking hard on his clit and repeat it again and again, short lived movements to tease him, to drive him mad and make his scream. He then pulls away.

“You taste delightful, can't wait to know how’ll you taste after having me inside” he says circling a finger over his slit and Crowley is a very patient being but being teased like this is going to kill him, it’s going to rip his broken soul from his corporation and turn him into stardust, so he opens his mouth to let the angel know as much but only can scream because Aziraphale has waited for that precise moment to bite him in the soft part of his thigh, still moving his finger, up between the folds of his lips, down to circle again over his wet entrance. “So soaked, lover, you will stain the bed, look at you, dripping all over yourself” and he pushes lightly over the wetness that had spilled down to his arsehole with a knuckle “Crowley darling, how much would you agree on being had from behind?” 

Crowley sobs beyond words. He thinks he may be dying of pure desire and if he is not, well he might as well cry again out of frustration. Aziraphale kisses his tights again and slides a finger inside him slowly, feeling him up, getting to know him while biting and kissing his tights one after the other and back again, and then he pushes his rough finger up and Crowley is crying out again, it feels so good he can’t think, he doesn’t realize he has closed his eyes until he opens them only to see the angel taking his finger to his lips to lick at it as if it were covered in honey, he lets go of it to slide it in again, loosing him up to slide a second one, and Crowley legs are shaking unanchored around the angel’s head who has gone down again to focus on his clit, tongue soft and warm moving around him, Aziraphale places his free hand on Crowley’s belly to keep him from riding his face and starts firmly crooking his fingers inside at the same time he sucks hard on his clit and Crowley’s brain stop working. 

When he comes back to himself, he is dizzy and his ears are ringing. He realizes that his knees are up to his ears and that he is being kissed, he can taste himself in the angel’s mouth and he is still spasming around the fingers buried inside of him, he moans a bit and grabs for the hair in the nape of the angel’s neck.

“Your clothes,” he growls “take them off, I want your cock in me, I want it now”.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need.” Aziraphale promises dazed and frenzied and is off him, yanking his shirt over his head, pulling his trousers and underwear down, desperate, desperate, and oh _he_ has done that to him. Crowley remembers to take his own top off making a quick enough job of it to see the angel completely bare in front of him, they are so different, the angel plum and soft and under all that softness solid muscle, Crowley has stopped more than once while watching telly in weight lifting programs and had wondered if the angel looked like that, rotund and powerful or more like a sumo wrestler, all soft and formidable, under all his clothes, he then had wiped out a vibrator and had come so many time he had fallen asleep with the thing still buzzing inside of him. He gawks, eyes hungry, from the almost not there curls on the angel’s chest to the line of white hair that goes from his navel to his crotch, to his legs pale and round, to his cock, hard, leaking, red and thick and Crowley feels suddenly so empty. Aziraphale is taking his fill too, his eyes roaming through him, like when presented with the dessert cart in a fancy restaurant, but there is something primal in the way he sees him something that Crowley has never seen before in six thousand years and he shivers with the heat of that gaze, knowing he is the cause of if, knowing its only for him. Aziraphale leans in to touch the blush on the demon’s chest sliding his hand in the direction of the growth his hair, softly, delicate “You are a sight, lover,” he says and Crowley wants to hide, wants to run from the affection and attention “the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen so much” then he pinch one of Crowley's nipples and the demon hisses falling back on the bed, feeling like a prey in the best possible way.

“Please” is all he needs to say before he feel the blunt head of the angel’s cock against him, pushing but not breaching in yet, Aziraphale is gasping over him, he pushes in but doesn’t go inside, there is a glorious moment when it rubs up between his lips and against his clit and Crowley gasps and thinks that maybe, someday, he could convince the angel to make him come just from that, but now he needs the angel inside. Aziraphale must feel the same way because he grabs the base of is cock and guides himself in, he is nervous Crowley realises, swallowing hard, his eyes going from where they are not joined yet to his face, back and forth, so Crowley cradles his face between his hands and kiss him softly. “Please” he gasps because they don’t need more words than that and his head is breaching him in. He is so wet and Aziraphale is thick and he feel like the air is being forced out of his lungs and when Aziraphale bottoms in with a whimper he moans and pants and claws at his back. 

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asks panting heavy over him.

“Yes!” he nearly shouts. “Yes, yes, yes” they find each other and kiss and Aziraphale starts moving, rocking lightly against him, his hands softly holding one of Crowley’s legs, the other tracing slow shapes over his ribs and Crowley wants to cry once more, overwhelmed by the softness of it all, he’ll have this next time he promises himself, tender and lovely and delicate but now he _needs_ because Aziraphale loves him, Aziraphale wants him, Aziraphale is making beautiful noises between kisses with every movement inside of him, all over him. But for now he guides one of the angel’s strong hands to his hair and tells him: “Pull. And fuck me like you mean it” the hand closes around his short hair and pulls, exposing his neck, then the angel proceeds to bit and trust against him, hard, and Crowley can’t move, because his legs is again over Aziraphale’s shoulder, almost kneen himself in the face and the angel hasn't let go of his hair, he feels teeth in his clavicle, his pulse point, his jaw, and a tongue, soothing all the places that hurt and Crowley shouts with every thrust, the head of his angel’s cock hitting right where he needs it, he feels so full, so perfectly stretched, he wants to feel that cock in his arse too, being held tight and having the angel parting his flesh and shoving his fingers inside his cunt, pushing that vibrator against his clit, making him come mercilessly. He wants Aziraphale to use him, he wants to come so many time he forgets how to stand, and he knows, deep inside of him, that Aziraphale, soft, sweet, nervous Aziraphale, hand tight on his nape, with his earth shattering thrusts, if he were to asks him wouldn't say no, he has the euphoric feeling that he doesn't even need to ask the angel, not tonight. He comes back to himself when he realizes the angel is mumbling against his skin, a deep grumbling that reverberates in his bony chest and Crowley buries his nails in the angels back and listens.

“...wanted you for so long, loved you for so long, you are always so beautiful, so good with me and it got harder and harder to stop myself” he thrusts, pulls and bites at the same time and Crowley is a whimpering mess ready to snap, but he still listen, drinking every word, “wanted to hide under your skirts and kiss you until you called God to save you from me, bend you over my desk and make you forget your name, all of them, I’m never letting you go, love, you waited for me so long, wanted you to shove me against my Wilde shelf and make me yours, show him who I really belong to, show them all” and what a thought is that, for Crowley to claim his angel for Aziraphale to claim him as well. “Still want you inside, beloved, want you deep and filthy, over and over, having you dripping out of me for a month” one of Crowley hands finds hold into the meaty flesh of the angel buttocks and after pulling and scratching his fingers find a way to the pucker between Aziraphale’s cheeks and probes, he is dry and won’t shove it inside but the pressure is enough to make Aziraphale forget how to talk. He bites him again and whimpers, untangles his hand from Crowley's hair to caress down his neck, to look for his lips urging his thumb inside his mouth and Crowley twists his tongue around it, sucking “Crowley, my love, my all, I can’t I-I can’t…” he breathes broken and useless to his mouth.

“Yes, yes, insi-AH-de” he begs around the digit and Aziraphale sobs for him and it’s all Crowley needs, he arches his back, pulls Aziraphale with the leg that can move and digs his nails in the base of the angels wings. He feels himself tightening around Aziraphale’s cock, again and again, milking the angel for all he has and after what feels like an eternity of coming he falls limp back on his bed. The angel is still whimpering in the crook of his neck but lets his leg fall down and settles himself on top of Crowley. 

Crowley feels impossibly tired, and sticky and still so full and so happy he chuckles, he chuckles and laughs and hugs Aziraphale with his arms and legs with all the strength he has left, which is not much but is enough to bring Aziraphale back from wherever he had left, he looks at him confused for a second but Crowley laugh has always invited the angel to laugh so he join him and Crowley wants to kiss him, and he can! So he kiss his mouth and his soft cheeks and his perky nose, he kisses his eyes still laughing.

“I love you, Aziraphale, I love you” he says and they kiss some more, slow and lazy while Aziraphale slips out of him, and when they separate the angel sighs completely pleased with himself, there is a thumb making circles in his cheekbone and when the angel opens his eyes with another sigh there is so much love pouring from them that if he weren’t trapped under the weight of the angel Crowley’d try to hide.

“The colour of your eyes has always been my favourite thing” Aziraphale answers instead, not making sense but it doesn’t matter because everything is soft and mellow between them until the angel’s eyes wander to Crowley’s neck. He straightens suddenly to look at the rest of Crowley, the inner part of his things is a complete mess, sticky with bodily fluids and coloured by hickies and bite marks, red, purple and white.

“Goodness gracious, love, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to be so rough!” his fingers tracing delicately the edge of the bruises and bites in his neck.

“What are you talking about? It was brilliant!”

“You are too good to me” says the angel mindlessly and Crowley’s foolish heart skips a beat. “Still… it’s not what I had in mind for our first time,” he says settling himself back down on the bed, next to Crowley not to crush him. His fingers going down to tend the bite marks on his tights and Crowley wants to tell the angel that from what he gathered, he really had no plan coming to his flat when he feels two fingers sliding inside of him “I wanted to treat you well, to be soft with you” he says ignoring his own fingers that are now scissoring his lover’s loose and drenched cunt, “let you be in charge of the pace…” Aziraphale pulls his fingers out and instead of wiping his hand on the comforter he takes them to his mouth and laps at them, moaning softly. Crowley whines.

“You were serious about that?!” 

“Of course I was! I like to taste things and you most definitely taste divine.” He says shamelessly, “Want a taste?” he asks then, Crowley opens his mouth and nods because he has lost his ability to talk, he has lost his ability to think too most likely, he thinks. Aziraphale slides his fingers inside his mouth and Crowley licks at them, tasting Aziraphale, thick and unsurprisingly sweet, his fingers are chubby and shorter than his own and he roll his unhuman tongue around them, dipping the forked tip in the crease between them, and sucks.

“Your tongue” Aziraphale moans and pulls away his fingers to kiss him, chasing after the taste of the two of them mixed together. The kiss settles into something slow, as Crowley is tired and Aziraphale can tell, so he moves the demon to his side, his front against Crowley's back and wraps an arm around his waists. “Now you take a nap, lover, you look like you are about to fall asleep, and truthfully” he hurries to say to stop the complaint they both know it’s coming “I could use a couple of minutes to rest” he finishes his statement with a kiss to Crowley's shoulder “Good lord, what have I done to your hair” he whispers.

“It’s fine“ Crowley says, lifting his head so the angel can slide his arm under it and he can make use of the meaty part as a pillow. He grabs Aziraphale’s other hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the knuckles once before settling as close as he can get to the angel and at the same time accommodating himself into a more comfortable sleeping position, he feels the angel kissing the nape of his neck and sigh “I asked you to…”

“I know, I know, but I should still have been more delicate” Crowley hears him say before drifting to sleep feeling soft kisses peppered to his abused neck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags updated acording to the chapter! 
> 
> enjoy~ this is a filthy one

After a while Aziraphale stirs awake, he has been sleeping more since the averted end of the world, that is to say, he has upgraded from dozing off to proper half an hour naps. Crowley is still pressed against him, their fingers loosely tangled still close to his mouth, he can feel him breathing, the rise and dawn of his tight chest, the warm humid air coming from his mouth in his hand. He nuzzles and buries his nose in the red hair and breathes Crowley in, there is sweat there, from what they had been doing, the smell of the hair products he uses, and the smell of smoke that the demon had tried for millennia to get rid of but Aziraphale loves. 

Aziraphale loves him, this creature so oddly human and flawed and good. He loves him like this, the most human he’s ever looked, breathing without needing to, and he loves him when the broken celestial parts of him burst out of his body, his black, black wings that are his, Crowley had told him once - his wings had always been black he likes them black he is glad they didn’t change when he fell he had rambled sloshed - his eyes of molten gold, when he is struggling to keep them human-looking and when he is too excited or overwhelmed to keep the gold form his sclera. The scales that he can see sometimes crawling up from his ankles. Aziraphale won’t ever admit it but he had filled pages and pages- in a time where paper was a luxury- with doodles of the mark that ornaments Crowley face. He kisses his neck and mourns the time he wasted trying to convince himself of his love being impossible, of it being wrong, of the fact that it could end them both. Turned out that the stubborn love of his demon is what was needed to keep the world spinning. 

Crowley sighs, still sleep, against him. The angel traces his lover’s thin lips with his fingers, his hooked nose and sharp cheekbones, the perfect not quite there shadow of a beard he insists on having every time he presents male and kiss his neck some more, softly, sweetly. Crowley deserves nice touches and he will be damned if he doesn’t deliver them. He had been so rough before, but Crowley had seemed just as desperate as him, a bit stunned but just as eager. He wants to wrap him in silks and cashmeres and hugs and to feel him naked against him forever, just like this. His fingers travel down his neck and wrap softly around it and Aziraphale has the brief image of erotic asphyxiation, having the responsibility of Crowley’s breath in the very tip of his fingers… he chases it out quickly, soft, only soft. His kisses have come down to Crowley shoulder, bony and freckled as his hand traces his beloved collar bones, he always wants to bite them, Crowley has been flaunting them whenever the fashion allows it and it drives him up the wall every time, he conforms with delicately sucking the skin of Crowley back. He seizes one of Crowley nipples and fingers it until it becomes hard under his loving attention, he can't help it, they hadn’t made time to touch while undressing and Aziraphale wants to explore him whole, wants to know his shape even if he loses his sight, to know him by memory with his hands and with the tip of his tongue. 

He has gotten better at controlling his impulses over the millennia but Crowley has always been his most guilty pleasure, to think he had settled himself only with his voice, only with the sight of him, when Crowley had always offered himself to Aziraphale like a buffet and now Aziraphale can finally indulge. He pinches the nipple firmly, but not hard, and Crowley gasps still sleep. He then goes for the other. His Effort filling between their bodies and he presses it against Crowley’s taut bum, he won’t do anything drastic until Crowley wakes up, but he thinks he may want to help him with that. He slides his open hand slow and deliberate over Crowley flat stomach and pulls him tight against him, then he gets distracted by the hair that leads to Crowley’s hidden treasure, red, unruly and curly and he goes back and forth between the decorative navel and the higher point of his mount. Crowley is breathing heavy now and Aziraphale can smell him, now that he knows him by taste, now that he knows how his scent spikes in the middle of pleasure, the way he is wetting himself again and he can feel his taste in the back of his mouth, watering for his lover, he wants to bury himself in Crowley again, his nose and fingers and cock, make him scream again, kiss him senseless and burn in his skin, down to his soul how much he is loved, but Crowley is still sleeping so he waits, that doesn’t mean he won’t touch him.

He slots his knee between Crowley’s legs, it allows him to prop Crowley upper leg over his, all the way feeling it up, raking lightly his nails over the soft skin, caressing the thin skin of the articulation, tracing the space between leg and torso, warming his palm with the hot flesh of his thigh. His leg dampening where it keeps Crowley's open. He props himself on his elbow, sliding his arm carefully from under Crowley’s head, he is at the perfect height to appreciate his doing, Crowley's nipples are pert and dusky under his ministrations and his eyes are closed tight. From where he is he can easily kiss Crowley’s ear, so he dips his tongue to lick the sweat gathering between ear and hair and lightly nibbles on the helix while his fingers dive down to explore, he probes around Crowley’s hood, circling it twice before dipping his fingers down between the folds of Crowley’s lips to gather the hot, slippery wetness and Aziraphale can’t help but bite Crowley’s lobe and Crowley starts trembling against him and panting and yes, he’ll wake up soon, he slides his fingers inside of Crowley and his lover gasps, waking up dazed and slowly as Aziraphale drags his fingers slowly in and out of him, taking them out to press against his clit and slotting them in again and pressing upwards, trying to find the spot that will light Crowley up like a flame.

“Ah...AHngel” Crowley gasp fisting the sheets, trying to curl on himself but the way Aziraphale has draped himself over him won’t let him, instead, the angel takes the opportunity to press against Crowley’s clit and lick a line from his neck up to his ear and Crowley lets out a high pitched sound between a whimper and a hiss, too sleepy still to mind himself.

“Had a good sleep, my love?” Aziraphale says casually, as if he hadn’t been teasing the demon for the better part of the last hour, as if his cock wasn’t trapped hard and slick between their heated bodies. “Been waiting for you to wake up. Do you mind terribly if I keep going?” Crowley hisses high and needy and Aziraphale smiles before sliding his fingers inside him again. “You look so beautiful, so handsome, beloved, you were so good just now, the noises you make, the way you smell, can't wait, Crowley, can't wait, for the things we could do, we could hold hands!” Crowley lets out a smothered laugh at that, a bit ironic to say for someone using his hand to finger him stupid, Aziraphale admits to himself. “We could kiss in public, can you imagine? I could finally treat you like you deserve, you’d wake up to my mouth every morning, I’d have you for every meal and I’m hungry, beloved, so hungry for you. Oh! think of the gifts I could give you, Crowley, sheer nightgowns of the best silk and jewellery, you look so dashing in gold” he keeps mumbling against Crowley ear, his dearest is close to finishing, he can see it for the way he claws desperately at the bed, for the pained sounds that escapes his throat, for the way he is tightening around his fingers, he presses harder and adds a third finger. “Handcuffs and silk, so you can tie me to your bed, so you can have me however you want, can you imagine, Crowley? Imagine being loved by me”. He pulls his fingers before Crowley can come.

“No!” Crowley howls. “No, Aziraphale please, don’t stop” he pleads but the angel has suddenly pushed him flat to his stomach with his entire weight, leaving his legs an open V.

“We are not done yet, lover, don’t worry.” He says rocking with his cock between Crowley’s bum-cheeks he wants to be soft, he wants to be sweet, he wants Crowley to scream his name so hard he loses his voice. “Stay there, beloved” he grunts low and Crowley shakes, a very interesting reaction to the pet name and he is sure of keep using it in the future. “I’ll take care of you” he pulls back and angles Crowley’s hips up slightly, not enough to have him lifting of the bed. “There you are, lover” another shake and Crowley is so obedient, so eager to please him, they’ll have to fix that, teach the dear some selfishness, teach him to take and demand. He thinks Crowley already know some of it, but over the course of History he has developed the dangerous habit of never denying Aziraphale anything and that must change. It can wait for now though. 

Aziraphale fists his cock and presses its length against Crowley’s core, coating it in fluid, he presses the head there for a moment, just to hear Crowley whimper and then slides it up and down between Crowley’s cheeks, taunting merciless.

“Have you thought of what I asked? Will you let me have you one day?” and he presses his slicked up head to Crowley’s bumhole, he is just teasing, he won’t go in, but he enjoys the way Crowley moans and his blush spreads down his shoulders and up to his ears, how his breathing changes patterns as he presses a little firmer, waiting for an answer.

“You can fuck my arse ‘till kingdom come if you finger me first, but if you don’t fill my cunt now, Aziraphale, I swear in the name of the fucking Almighty that I will …!” Crowley roars and Aziraphale feels his entire being tingle in excitement, yes, that’s what he wants, Crowley demanding and selfish and taking and taking from him what is rightfully his. He re-accommodates himself before Crowley finish the sentence and grabs two handfuls of his arse spreading him open, gliding inside his core easily “fffuck, you are so thick”.

“It’s only the tip, beloved” he pants, Crowley doesn’t answer, instead, me moans and whines and claws the bed some more and buries his face in the sheets, kicking behind him, behaving like an absolute brat and Aziraphale loves him. He sinks in fully, settling himself heavily inside and over Crowley, hands on his lover’s narrow hips pulling him impossibly close, keeping him pinned to the bed only by his weight. He kisses a shoulder, overwhelmed himself, and starts thrusting, the slow and heavy drag of his cock making Crowley sighs with content and try to move to match the angel rhythm. Aziraphale wouldn’t have that. He drives in harder, breathing heavy over Crowley’s flexible spine, one hand looking for both of Crowley’s hands to hold them, pin him down, he pushes harder again and then a harder still, picking up the pace and the force of each trust, leaving Crowley a moaning breathless mess unable to do much but to take him. 

Crowley comes much too soon, without a warning, tightening around him in delicious, electric waves, his nails ripping the sheets, dragging Aziraphale hand down with his and the angel almost comes too, but keeps pushing into Crowley who has gone languid and pliant underneath him, making small sounds every time the angel moves inside of him. He keeps rutting against him, driving Crowley to the edge of overstimulation, then he pulls back, lifting Crowley with him, having him sit lovely and open on top of his thighs, left hand on Crowley’s right shoulder, right hand sliding down Crowley’s front, pinching his nipples, scratching one of his tights, fingers framing the place where the demon has taken him so nicely in his body, so impossibly deep, Crowley head has fallen backwards over his shoulder, exposing the long line of his neck and Aziraphale bites, Crowley’s arms take hold of his waist then and he starts to rock gently, trying to get some friction, if he moves too much they’ll fall forward and they already had their fun that way. He teases lightly to Crowley’s clit and slides his hand up to his mouth nudging it to open up and take his fingers in.

“Can you come like this? Will you come once more for me, lover?” Crowley makes an affirmative wordless sound, his tongue tangling wet between his fingers, fangs scraping them lightly when Aziraphale pulls them out. “Lovely, I’d like to feel you come once more around me before finishing myself”

“You are filthy, angel. Keep going”. 

Aziraphale smiles and kiss his cheek shortly and slides his spitslick fingers over Crowley’s clit, now hard and attentive to any touch. He nuzzles the little nub slightly and Crowley digs his claws on his flesh, overstimulated, but doesn’t asks him to stop, so he starts to bounce over his own folded legs, shallow movements that makes Crowley bounce on top of him, it makes the head of his cock drag against Crowley’s inner walls deeper than before, and his demon sobs a moan, he circles his clit and his lover tightens but doesn’t come yet, he can feel the heat of Crowley’s orgasm building up on him, steady and inevitable. In the trembling of his legs and the taut lines in his flat stomach so he rubs hard, fast, implacable, and Crowley shouts his name and tries to move away from him but he has a firm hold of his shoulder and keeps going and Crowley is sobbing actual tears and coming around him so tight, so hot. He allows Crowley to falls forward from his hold but grabs his hips where they are still high and connected and lunges hard inside him, coming with a shout, hot and thick not even after half a dozen thrusts and Crowley is still coming around him, when Crowley stops pulsing and trembling he pulls out, he gets to see how his come and Crowley’s drip from his well-used core and he wants to dive in and taste it but he vaguely thinks that he could discorporate Crowley if he does it, instead he slips two fingers quickly and effectively and tastes them, his fingers still have traces of Crowley’s saliva and together they are sweet and smoky. He falls onto the bed, still licking his fingers and drags Crowley trembling form on top of him, kisses his tears until he finds his mouth and kisses it, it’s Crowley who slides his tongue on Aziraphale’s mouth but is a slow drag of forked tongue and his hands frame the angel face sweetly and God, why can’t he see it himself, how soft and sweet and caring Crowley is.

“Holy fffuck, I haven’t been fucked like this in decades… next time we do that, let’s have something I can hold on to, or a mirror, or a magic wand!” he laughs, delighted and breathless “I should have known you’d be insatiable!!! I can’t believe you! You edging me and then making me come twice!” 

“Oh, thanks goodness you enjoyed it, I couldn’t help it, you looked so lovely sleeping and make such delightful noises when you are about to come. I may have been too eager, I admit, couldn’t wait until you’d woke up to touch you again”

“‘t’s ok, you promised to wake me with your mouth, but I’ll allow this treatment” 

“I still can give you my mouth, clean you up nice and proper, better when it’s still warm” Crowley looks at him like he has grown a fifth head and makes a broken noise but doesn’t move. 

“Stars, Aziraphale, give me a minute, I still can’t feel my legs”.

“It’s not your legs you need to feel, my love, it’s my tongue” and Crowley hisses but falls on his back and opens his legs for him, Aziraphale looks at him in awe, his mouth feels dry so he goes down to kiss his mouth once, short and dirty and then scoots down to clean his perfect, perfect lover. Crowley sighs at the attentions, at the reverent trail of kisses up his tights, as Aziraphale licks at every drop of come he finds and he doesn’t means to tease, but they had made an absolute mess of Crowley and the more he laps his tongue over the heated skin of his tights the more wet Crowley becomes. When he parts his lips to get deeper in, he hears Crowley curse and rustle over his nightstand and then feels something bounce in his head and land next to one of his hands. A tube of lube. He looks up and Crowley is panting, looking at him flushed and perfect.

“Do your worst, lover boy”.

Aziraphale then urges him to turn over his belly again, grabbing one of the pillows and placing it under Crowley's hips to keep the angle without having him straining his back, then goes back to lick at his loose and wet core, finishing his task of cleaning him of his seed, hooking one of his fingers inside and pulling his come out to lap at it after kissing Crowley's bum, he then licks at his pucker, prodding it with his tongue, testing the taut muscle and Crowley groans, he makes a tight circle around it and gets up to squeeze some lube on his fingers.

“Should I make you come? Do you want that?” he feels breathless and dizzy and his cock is getting hard again he realizes sheepishly.

“Yah” Crowley pants and Aziraphale presses at his clit with the pads of his lubed up fingers and drags them up, drawing fluid up to his arse, his thumb presses against his entrance and Crowley gasps, while he teases the rim with his dull nail. He wants to go back down and open him with his mouth, but he needs to know one more thing.

“Do you want my fingers, beloved? My cock? What do I do for you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me” Crowley pants, already breathless.

“That won’t do, lover, you are always doing what I fancy, what do you want?” he pushes his thumb a bit more and slides two fingers inside his slit.

“Fffuck! Aziraphale! I want your mouth back on me! I want you to fuck my arse with your massive cock! I want my vibrator in my cunt while you fuck me, but that bullshit is in the bathroom and I can’t be bothered! Will you fuck me already! Do something, you fucking tease!” he roars and Aziraphale drops to his elbows to shove his tongue inside Crowley’s tight ring of muscle pulling at it with one of his fingers. He takes his time with it, hooking his finger and pulling to open his lover up, using his other hand to spread his cheeks, to add more lube, soon after there are 3 fingers and a tongue inside Crowley and a wet stain where he drips on the pillow. Aziraphale pulls out, placing slow wet kisses form Crowley's lower back up to his ear, feeling the demon whimper uselessly against the bed.

“Can you relax now, lover? You’ve been doing so good for me so perfect, relax or you won’t take me in” he asks. 

“Shut up and bugger me already!” Aziraphale guides himself and pushes in then, slowly, he doesn’t want to hurt Crowley, but he is tight and hot, and he has fantasised about this and so many other configurations of being this close to Crowley and he feels ready to snap. It takes him too much time to bottom in and he can taste the sweat damping Crowley’s hair, he consider pulling it, Crowley had made clear how much he enjoys it, but what he really wants is to see his lover’s face, to know he is enjoying this as much as him, he knows this is a whim, but it’s pointless if Crowley is not having as much fun as he is, if Crowley doesn’t feel how much Aziraphale needs him.

“Are you ok, love? You must let me know if I’m hurting you”

“You’re not”. Crowley pants “Come on, angel, move” but Aziraphale can’t, he whimpers, too overwhelmed, he wants to stay like this forever, he wants to ram into Crowley fast and desperate, he wants to hear him laugh and see him smile, and hear him sing. He is so full of love he feels paralyzed “What happens, what is it, love?”. And oh! the sound of that word coming from Crowley’s concerned voice has him tearing up, he hugs his lover tightly, tears rolling from his eyes “Aziraphale?”

  
“I love you so much, Crowley, so much” he sobs, “for so long and you are so good to me you really are, you take me places and buy me present and are here with my cock all the way up your arse because of a whim, because I’m a brat, and you still spoil me, I wanted to make this good for you but it’s still me taking and taking like always and I really, really want to see your face” he says, properly crying against the demons back.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley’s voice is velvet soft this time and Aziraphale really wants to curl up between Crowley's arms and cry some more. “Come on, pull out, let me hold you” Aziraphale holds onto him tighter, little sobs leaving with every breath “I want to see you too”

He sniffles a little but manages to unhook himself from Crowley, they both gasp when he pulls out, but Crowley is quick to turn around, pulling the angel into a hug, kissing his tears dry, patting his hair soothingly and Aziraphale hides his face between the purple bruises on Crowley's neck.

“Here’s a thing you need to know, angel; whatever I do, all the things I’ve done for you and will keep doing, it's because I want to, because it makes you happy and that makes me happy, alright you big baby?” Aziraphale sniffles some more and nods, “now, I reckon we were in the middle of something” he says sitting up “lay down, angel, I’m gonna ride you” he throws a long leg over the angel’s lap and sit on it grabbing the lube and pouring some on his hand in the process. “Very handsome cock you got yourself here, lover boy, just the kind of cock I like to ride” he says taking hold of it, pumping it once, then circling the crown with one finger, pushing at the slit and pulling a sticky drop of pre-come to taste. “I would love to choke on it one of these days. Did you know snakes have no gag reflex? I could have one, for you, you could have me slobbering and crying, gasping for air, fuck my throat raw… you could. I’d let you” he says, still playing with him.

Aziraphale can only look at him, having forgotten to breath, quite a 180° change in attitude in his demon, from the whimpering mess he had turned under him not long ago to this bold creature hovering above, wicked and entirely too charming. Crowley braces himself on his chest then and slides hard and wet against his cock without taking it in, making Aziraphale gasp and grasps for his thin thighs, rubbing his lips against the girth of him.

“So good” he said, after doing that a couple of times, opening one golden eye to look at his lover “you are so done for, angel, I’m not sleepy anymore and you can’t take me for surprise now… I’m going to take you apart piece by piece” said that, he holds his cock again, guiding it to sink on it fast, aided by gravity. They both gasps and moan but Crowley starts moving right away, and Aziraphale realises belatedly that Crowley has taken him in his bum, he looks at his beloved and Crowley is smiling at him, feral and completely pleased with himself and moving faster, leaning back to hold himself on one of Aziraphale’s tights, exposing the long planes of his body and Aziraphale knows he is staring but it’s not like Crowley doesn’t meant for him to do exactly that, because he licks the hand that is not supporting him and starts touching himself, effectively putting a show for the angel. They are both panting and grunting and Aziraphale wants to touch him, but Crowley swats his hand and goes back to his clit quick and efficient.

“No, no, no, naughty angel, you can only watch while I take what I want from you, understood?” and Aziraphale nods desperate, he is so close and seeing Crowley use him like this does not helps his situation, Crowley must have known this for he stops impaling himself on the angel, still working on his clit. “You come after I come, alright, lover boy?” he says moving desperately slow forward and backwards over him and Aziraphale whines low and needy. He takes one of the angel’s hand and places it on his skin, over the patch of hair that connects his navel and crotch, there is bulge in there, tighter than the rest of Crowley’s flesh “Can you feel that angel? That’s you, you are so big you’re bulging up my gut, messing up my insides. Fuck, you feel good, can’t imagine how you’ll feel when I make a prostate for you to fuck.” He leaves Aziraphale hand then and starts moving hard and fast again, and Aziraphale can feel his cock moving in and out of his lithe body, then Crowley slides the angels hand over his clit “make me come, Aziraphale, I know you can, make me come one more time” so he presses his thumb over his lovers clit, twist his hand and managing to slide his fingers in the wet heat of Crowley who grunts and moves faster, he looks beautiful Aziraphale thinks, hair ablaze and wild, lips open in a fierce kiss-swollen grin, a neckless of red and purple marks, skin shiny and shimmery with sweat and Aziraphale feels like falling in love all over again. Why does Crowley even bother with clothes if he can look like this, brilliant and happy and so well fucked.

He finally manages to find the patch of rubbery flesh inside and presses it and his clit at the same time. Crowley shouts his name, sinking had on his cock, riding his orgasm hard and desperate and Aziraphale is coming too, all being too much for him to keep going, Crowley’s voice and heat, the look on his face and the rapid blush setting camp on his chests, red hair on reddening skin. 

Crowley falls forward over him, holding himself up on his elbows, still pulsing around his fingers, before lifting himself from Aziraphale’s shrinking cock and flopping ungracefully besides him in bed. They gather in each other’s arms exhausted and satisfied and Crowley is the tallest of them but still curls up against him, Aziraphale hand find his way between red curls and starts massaging there.

“I love you” they say at the same time and giggle, drunk on love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> comments always make me happy, even if i dont know how to answer them~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is dialogue in this one! actual comunication! and its soft! not the comunication, the interactions, hope yall like it

“A cuddler, aren’t we?” Aziraphale teases after a while of comfortable silence.

“Shut up. You damned yourself, angel, you are gonna be my body pillow from now on until eternity” Crowley answers crossed, snuggling himself harder against the angel.

“Gladly, lover” he murmurs back, so terribly content. They stay like that for a while more before Crowley shifts up a little, still completely plastered to Aziraphale’s side and says:

“Now tell me, angel, where did you get the guts to come all the way over to my flat and ravish me so thoroughly?”

“Well… you see, I have always had rather a big of a gut,” he says placing one of his hands over his belly smiling cheekily, “balls on the other hand, can’t say I always have them” Crowley snickers and kiss him on the temple.

“Glad to see you are not self-conscious, after you told me about the way that wanker dared talk to you. Have I been there...”

“Why wouldn't I be comfortable with myself?! No matter how unpleasant Gabriel can be, my corporation has always looked like this, no matter how much or little I eat. Besides, this originally was a God issued body. She knew what She was doing! and Adam did a great job reconstructing it! It does exactly what I need from it. It’s on the heavier side for when I needed to engage in battle…”

“You _were_ created as a warrior…” Crowley hums.

“Exactly! it's not like he ever had to fight, lean mean killing machine” he mocks “and its soft for when I need to bring Her grace to the humans, looking like this it made me much more approachable than if I looked like a bloodthirsty mercenary. Can you imagine me looking like Sandalphon? He exudes violence! And! At one point in history I was the height of beauty! I posed for painters, Crowley! Naked!”

“I know” he says, looking at him with that soft smile he so rarely spears, remembering the paintings and the fact that he can’t actually look at them directly “I think I have one or two stored away to not get sun damaged. Hafta support the arts” he says sly, Aziraphale looks at him somewhat outraged and more than a bit abashed “now, come on lover boy, tell me, what made you say today it is-”

“If you must know,” he turns his head away, shy and looks at his beloved sideways “I was feeling restless.” Crowley looks at him, urging him to keep going. “We had been seeing each other almost every day - for most part of the day - for the last eleven years and now that we don’t have to pretend to work together anymore - or work at all - , and the world is not ending either, we are not seeing each other as often, which I now is not a sensible though, we meet five days a week! But sometimes you leave just after an hour and I was running out of excuses to have you over. I also have noticed you don’t like the bookshop anymore, I don’t blame you, if I had seen the Bentley soaked to the foundations and though you had died I wouldn't want to get in it ever again, even if you’d had come back. And- and, the more I think

things the less I do them and it was time to fix the consequences of lying to myself for so long…”

“What would you have done if I hadn't kiss you back?”

“You didn’t kiss me back…”

“You know what I mean!”

“Well… I had never considered the possibility of you rejecting me or feeling something other than love for me, I have always sensed your love towards me - and humans and London and your car, don’t even try to deny it - even if I had tried to convince myself it was not love, or that you could not feel love, with the whole demon thing, or that I was protecting my own feelings... none of it true… but I was going to conform myself with having kissed you and the promise of a date. I had to try, or I’d regret it for the rest of my immortal life. Best case scenario, in my head” he hurries to say “you had me bend over your writing desk, completely at your mercy, buried, very, very deep inside of me…”

“We still have time for that, angel” he says cheeky, placing a hand gingerly on one of Aziraphale ample thigh making small circles with his fingers.

“I know” he answers sweetly. “Can _I_ ask you a question? Why did you chopped it off” he says tugging gently to a strand of copper hair. Crowley groans and messes up his damp hair before answering, angling his head so the angel can keep playing with his hair.

“Y’know. I had been anxious for months before Warlock’s birthday, and Kingdom was coming and I couldn't be bothered to style my hair, besides I needed to look as different as possible by Warlock’s 11th birthday so he wouldn't recognize me as Nanny. It was driving me up the wall truthfully, and I had no time to spear for it, I was pulling at it too often and when its long it does come by the handfuls… Can you believe that that brat has my number!” he says remembering something suddenly “he texted me the other day, asking me where I had put his Wii remote! He asked about you too, if I knew where you had gone. He must miss us the poor darling.”

“Do you want to pay him a visit someday?” Crowley looks at him with his molten gold eyes bright and hopeful and Aziraphale is reminded how much he loved the kid and is overcome with need - the same urgency to doing something - that he felt when he gave away his sword. “Do you want to raise him? I could steal him for you, I don’t have to be good anymore if I don’t want to and I would be doing the wee boy a favour in the long run, you did care about him more than his own mother. She does loves him but doesn’t really knows what to do with him, though.”

“Oh, angel…” he says lovingly but there is something sad in the way he speaks, a memory that Aziraphale hasn't been allowed yet “I thank the thought but I couldn't raise another kid only to see them die a few decades later…” _Oh._

“You’ve raised children?!”

“Yeah… long time ago… It was in the first or second millennia, we weren't that close yet, I buried her myself, went to sleep 20 years after that. My first depression nap!”

“Oh, my love” Aziraphale hugs him tight bringing him back to lay over himself, there are so many things he doesn’t know about Crowley yet, so many things he denied himself from knowing. “Will you tell me about her? Not now, when you are ready?” Crowley hums back on his shoulder. It’s not long when he stirs again - he can never stay much time still unless he is sleeping - plucking himself from his embrace, he seems to be in a much better mood so Aziraphale does not comments on it.

“Let’s have a bath, angel, I feel sticky all over” he gets up without waiting for an answer and saunters in the direction of where he vaguely remembers is the bathroom. Unclothed and shameless as he is Aziraphale can see his lover’s back, pale and tight and the smattering of purple kisses he has left behind, his brief waist and, most importantly, the whole movement of those hips that he had dubbed sinful so many centuries ago, he sees the trail of come going down form Crowley tight bum and the slick that coat his inner thighs and Aziraphale promptly realizes that he has signed an indefinite contract with his own personal Hell, soon he will have to either change Effort or get rid of it all together when he is not using it because he thinks it’s not the most polite thing to do to live the next century with a raging hard on. 

He gets up and follows him quickly, dragging the sheets with him, using them to cover himself like a cape, black is not his colour but they will do. He reaches the bathroom where Crowley is filling the tub with hot water and there is something wrong with that image, but Crowley sticks his hand in the water and doesn't screeches so he tells himself that everything seems to be fine.

“Why don't we just miracle ourselves clean, love?” 

“I like bathing,” he says, moving the knobs, checking the water temperature, adding _bubbles_ “and sometimes I like doing things the human w… what are you doing?” finally turning to see him and Aziraphale knows that look on his face, more clearly now without the dark glasses, it’s the look Crowley makes when he think the angel is being ridiculous. He huddles up more in the sheet, offended.

“Modesty is never a bad thing”

“Modesty? You had your tongue up my a…!”

“Don’t be crass!”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter” he concedes “get in the tub” he turns to sink one foot in

but Aziraphale stops him before he can touch the water.

“Wait!” he fuzzes a bit, wrinkles the sheets between his hands, drops it and enters the water first, sitting himself in the middle of the bathtub. It’s not holly, it’s plain old simple London tap water with a bit too much chlorine maybe and soap bubbles. “Your execution was in a bathtub” he says while Crowley steps inside, the sight of his beloved in a bathtub is still jarring but Crowley is looking at him softly, sighing grateful for the hot water, leaning against him solid and present and alive and that helps a little, also the bubbles.

“I’m sorry you had to remember that” he says, placing a clean wet hand on his face “we can take a shower if you fancy better”

“No no, this is nice, we’ll be fine, I’ll be fine” and it is, Crowley is warm and close to him, the prospect of the hot water relaxing their muscles, the citrusy smell of the bubbles, it all helps “however, I would ask you to never take a bath without me in the next two centuries or so”

“Ok…” Crowley gives him a peck on the lips and turns away from him, resting his back on Aziraphale’s front, claiming his unofficial status of little spoon. In all fairness, this bathtub is much nicer than Hell’s, it has clawed gold feet and is long enough to fit Crowley long, long legs, even with the angel in too, wide enough to sprawl at leisure and the angle of the back is divine, there is a lip on one of the sides that allows for things to be put there and Aziraphale is already picturing two glasses of wine and some dainty sweets, maybe marzipan, since chocolate may melt with the vapours, it’s has a telephone shower attached to a golden pipe at the front, all it’s rimmed with golden details and of course, its black and so Crowley’s that he can feel himself rapidly falling at ease.

He hugs Crowley and kisses his neck once, and rest his head on his lover’s shoulder, breathing him in and out. After a few minutes he feels his hand reach up and starts to scratch his hair with his long gracious fingers, it feels perfect. It feels right. When he lifts his head two glasses of red wine had materialized on the lip of the tub, there is no marzipan, but he feels content anyway. Crowley picks of one of the cups up and Aziraphale follows suit but before sipping it he places a chaste kiss in the demon cheek.

“Thank you, love” Crowley makes a relaxed noise as both sip form their glasses, Aziraphale ponders asking something and decides in favour of it “May I ask you something, Crowley?” He makes that noise that Aziraphale has come to translate as _go for it_ “Bubbles?”

Crowley is looking away from him but he still knows that his face is wrinkling in that expression that is more a pout than a frown but he can acknowledge because the one time he did it Crowley had stormed out of the tavern they were drinking in only to realize he had already paid to spend the night and wasn't eager to ride the horse he had acquired to go to another town.

“Ngk! shut up! I’m- kn- is not- ssss - you - hhn” he settles for a groan and then, sinking in the water, says “they smell good, ok?” Aziraphale smiles down at him. His precious demon, who suddenly gulps down the rest of his whine, thinks his glass away and turns around to face him. “I need to clean myself up, are you gonna help me?” he is blushing furiously and stubbornly ignoring said fact, his eyes haven't gone back to look human-ish since the moment they’ve gone fully gold Aziraphale notices, and can’t deny anything to those eyes.

“Of course” he says meaning to place the cup in the lip of the tub but placing it on the floor after a second though, if things get naughty, as Crowley’s face suggest, it will be much safer the closer it is to the ground. Crowley throws his arms behind his back and kiss him, long and placid. They stay like that for a while, lips locked, tasting the wine in the others mouth, tasting each other. When they pull back Aziraphale feels absolutely giddy, he is not sure if is the amount of love in the room of it’s just the fact that they can kiss and feel safe while doing so. “Turn over, beloved” he asks “let me wash your hair” Aziraphale doesn’t wash his own hair, he thinks it clean or goes to his barber, so he is not very sure of what the customs are currently and hopes he doesn’t mess it up. Crowley doesn’t need to know this. Crowley turns around but doesn’t lean against him immediately, instead, he fumbles at the border of the tub and resurfaces with two glass bottles and a plastic tub.

“You gotta use all three of these” he says passing him the first bottle and finally resting against him. _No-poo_ says the bottle and Aziraphale frowns at it confused, but he pumps a bit of the liquid on his hands and smells it, it smells like Crowley hair sans sweat and smoke, so he starts to run his coated fingers between the short red locks, they are soft and thick and as he works his scalp it starts to suds, because that’s what shampoo does, isn’t it? Crowley groans in pleasure, and he groans again when, instead of the pads of his fingers, Aziraphale uses his nails. He looks so content that he doesn’t try anything else but scratching along his nape and sides of his head. He scratches and cleans him of his sweat and whatever other thing may have ended up in his hair and after a while, when he is sure there is no more dirt in his hair and he has scratched a long while more, once or twice running his nails down his spine (Crowley moans every time) he asks for the showerhead. 

“Don’t go opening your eyes, lover, we don’t want you hurting your magnificent eyes” Crowley is too relaxed to become flustered and Aziraphale tilts his head back and runs the warm water over the red strands, he can’t help it and places a kiss on Crowley’s lips and forehead and then keeps washing the _no-poo_ shampoo away. He runs his fingers through the hair, making sure is clean and asks for the next bottle. It looks like the first one, but the liquid is cloudier, and says conditioner, the liquid is also denser and slippery and makes him think of the other uses it may have but prefers to focus on the matter at hand. He coats Crowley’s hair with it and it becomes softer, even more than before, so he makes sure to spread it evenly in the short hair massaging it thoughtfully and Crowley is putty in his hands by now, but he washes it away soon enough, getting impatient. He is handed the last tube and unrolls the cap and pulls not much of it, it looks more expensive than the two bottles, but then again, everything in Crowley’s flat looks expensive. He coats his fingers in the pomade and massages it into the demon’s hair and when Crowley deems it spread enough, he turns around to face the angel.

“This one needs to stay a while longer,” he says, holding onto Aziraphale, placing his forehead on his left shoulder, “there are other things we could _wash_ in the meantime” and he leans to kiss him, still languid and relaxed and Crowley tastes like contentment and love and wine and it lasts until Aziraphale hoists him from his bum over his legs so he is sitting astride on his lap instead of between his legs and scrubs the skin of his inner thighs looking to rub the things that may still be sticking to the sensitive skin. Crowley draped over him all liquid limbs sighs and kisses his neck, in this position he could enter him easily, he is hard enough to do so and had been for a while now but he is focused on his beloved, on cleaning and soothing him, even if he is now starting to leave little bites to the flesh he can reach without moving much from his lazy stance. 

“You gotta clean up too” he whispers to the skin of his neck snaking a hand down over his chest and belly, making every hair in Aziraphale corporation stand on edge. “We’ve both made a mess of ourselves” he says kissing his neck, using that clever tongue of his, wrapping a hand around him and pumping slow. “Here. Big messy. Keep making sure I’m clean, lover boy” Crowley keeps at it, loose hand and languid and Aziraphale hands are trembling while he drags his fingers over Crowley’s backside skin, the hot water has washed away most of the fluids but he caress the skin anyway making sure is clean, then presses his fingers inside of him, who is still loose from having him inside, to pull out his own come from his lover. Crowley lets out a single moan and kisses him, wrapping around him harder, picking up the pace of his hand.

“You’ll get filled with water, love” he points breathless, two fingers inside of his lover.

“You know what I want to be filled with” and Aziraphale growls and pulls him in to slide inside his core, fingers still in his arse. Crowley moan and kiss him hard, his forked tongue filling his mouth, demanding and hot and oh, the things that tongue could do to him.

Crowley breaks the kiss and braces himself on the sides of the tub to start rocking against him. Aziraphale feels himself slipping down in the ceramic of the tub so he grabs hold of Crowley’s hips with both hand to pull him flesh to flesh against him, Crowley keeps moving on top of him regardless of the water sloshing over the tub, regardless of the uncomfortable position or that his tights are probably on fire because Aziraphale is grabbing at him, mouthing at his collarbones and the demon holds onto his white fluffy hair with one hand, pulling it down to look at the blue eyes, and Aziraphale is sure looks dazed, he feels dazed. 

“Aziraphale, Aziraphale you can’t look at me this way, not when you look like that,” he knows he is looking at him feverously, that his mouth is hanging open in ecstasy but the light behind Crowley’s head makes his wet hair looks ablaze, he looks sublime, humanity stripping away from him by the moment while they do this very human thing “can i make you look like this forever? I promise you I’ll make you feel this good every day for the rest of eternity, Aziraphale. Nothing else matters if I can make you feel good” when he speaks it sounds like the whisper of the stars, like the crackle of fire “You feel so good angel, so good. I’ll give you everything, Aziraphale, and when I’ve given you all I’ll give myself to you. Will you be mine angel? Are you mine?” he promises, he asks and begs, and it doesn't matter because Aziraphale is holding him so tight now that Crowley can’t move and he is grinding up against him, making Crowley lose his breath.

“Yes, yours, yours, never leaving you, never letting you go” Aziraphale mumbles in a deep rumble against Crowley’s neck. With a groan and a laugh he rakes his nails down his lover’s back and keeps talking “Said I was insatiable? Look at you, lover, taking all of me, feeding off of me, so hungry for me, so perfect for me. I thought of you so many times, so many ways and nothing compares to you, to your taste and the way you sound and the warmth of your skin. The way you love me so good.” He chants and Crowley, desperate, growls and whines and grinds harder on him, he looks close to tears again and Aziraphale is not sure if it’s the frustration of not having come yet or his words. “How long did I left you waiting, craving? Never again, love.” 

He is close but before he can do anything to bring his love to his own release Crowley shouts, a broken cry of divine ecstasies, arching his back away from him as his wings unfurl from the ether, massive and black and one at a time until all nine are in display and Crowley’s orgasms is coming to an end jumpstarting Aziraphale’s own, overwhelming and all-consuming.

When he comes to, he is laying back on the tub with Crowley and his wings over him. They are both clean, no product dulling his bright red hair, no slick-slide feeling of come on him. The water is still perfectly hot and clean, and Crowley is drawing figures over his skin, humming a song and he looks happy.

“... _be your valentino just for you, ooh love, ooh lover boy, what’re you doing tonight, hey boy?~_ I had not planned this, y’know?”

“Pray tell, when you had time to plan anything?”

“Well, between this orgasms and the last…it’s just, I don’t like changing Effort feeling all icky-sticky inside, ‘sides, I thought you would want something to eat, proper food I mean…” he blushes and laughs a little, lovely and naughty, but the thought of food has Aziraphale perking up and Crowley laughs louder at him, brilliant and open.

“We could ask delivery from that place with the samosas made with lard! Or from that Nikkei fusion place that opened up in Mayfair last month!”

“Whatever you want lover boy” then he stretch all 13 limbs of him like an eldritch cat and gets out of the tub, and his wings cover the view of what Aziraphale wants to see, if Crowley has changed Efforts already, he soon gives up in order to truly appreciate the wonder of Crowley’s wings in full display, one coming off each ankle, small and soaked, shaking the water away with every step, the three pairs fighting for the space of his brief back at about the same height of his own, the bottom of his lower back pair rising up from his waist angling in downwards, the top one coming from the point where human shoulder blades are. The last one is on the centre of his back, running down his spine, that one is new to Aziraphale, not many angels have it, not at least the ones he has seen, he is not sure about demons.

They are not black as he though, he remembers the colour of nothing, of the emptiness from where things used to be created in Heaven, deeper than any black human eyes could ever process, that’s the colour of those wings, iridescent primaries and matte scapulars and if they are any close as sensible as his three pairs he thinks of the sensations that he can provide for his beloved.

“Darling? You have nine wings…” he points out, not very clever of him but he has only seen two of Crowley’s wings, wonderful and stretched with pride and fear. 

“Uhn, yes, since _Armaggedon’t_ they hurt a little less every day when I move them all at the same time…” he says coming back with two incredibly fluffy black towels. “Up you go angel, you’re gonna start pruning. Now where did I left that damned mobile...” he keeps going, ignoring the fact that he had just revealed a terrible secret to Aziraphale whose soul hurts with the need to sooth and cure but he has never good at that last one without the intervention of miracles, besides his demon is a prideful thing so he doesn’t ask of it, of what other things hurt and bleed. 

“What’s the one in the middle do? Can I touch them?” he asks instead.

“Not tonight, naughty angel,” he says flashing him a smile as he saunters outside the bathroom careless and happy, tower wrapped around his waist just below his lower-back wing pair “and that one is to sail in the emptiness of space, for when I made the stars, and among time, when it feels like a river, blah blah blah, whatever. Never use it anymore...” Aziraphale does not understand but doesn’t press, he sometimes forgets that Crowley is much older than him, an arcane creature made with the firth breath of life, fallen with the last warmth of Heaven.

He gets out of the tub and wonders if he should let his wings out too to be in equal conditions, but soon forgets about it when he sees the silk sheets in the floor and has a mind to miracle the bed made and unharmed, he exists the bathroom and Crowley is talking to his phone pacing the rooms ordering food for them so he pats himself dry and enters the freshly made bed. He has no intention of leaving it, not even to eat. The soft silk of the sheets feels like an indulgence over his naked skin, and it smells like Crowley, even when just miracled clean, they still smell like the demon and Aziraphale would gladly take one home to bundle up during the quiet nights. He does wish for a book when Crowley takes more time that he is willing to wait, but the aroma of the sheets soothes him enough to start to feel mischievous.

When Crowley comes back his wings are still on display and Aziraphale understand a bit more the reason why his flat is so open and empty, the tips of four of his wings drag on the floor but otherwise they hadn’t bumped against anything except for the time he reached down to grab his lacy knickers to shake them into being a more sturdy piece of underwear that he slips quickly on. It clings tight to his new shape under Aziraphale attentive gaze.

“Food should be here in about half an hour. What’d you fancy doing in the meantime?” he asks after hanging his mobile.

“I would love to suck your cock now that you have one...” Crowley goes red to his ears and starts coughing his wings doing all sort of things, covering his front, rising up and flapping near the floor and Aziraphale laughs, what a delightful thing to be able to fluster Crowley when is usually the other way around. 

“No!” he threatens him with a finger “No! you are gonna drag it and you are gonna leave me stupid, we’re gonna miss when the delivery arrives and it’s going to be my fault somehow!”

“Can I touch your wings then?” he asks, getting up from the bed, ready to pounce him, he has heard of tickle battles, he is sure this is something along the lines of that. Crowley’s wings have gone all behind him.

“Back off, you maniac!” Crowley shrieks backing down towards the door. Then they are running.

Crowley’s flat is like a labyrinth, every room has at least two doors, half of them revolving, half of them sliding, there is natural sunlight in rooms with no windows and rooms with picture windows that overview half of London. It’s not hard to find -or run from - each other in it, though, they can sense the other, and it’s fun and loud and childish in a way they were never allowed to be, never thought they could be.

Aziraphale rediscovers the room where Crowley keeps his records and discovers the room where he hides his books (he has no idea how he got there and it takes him a while to get out) spears a glance to both sculptures in the flat and discovers that Crowley has been calling himself Anthony or some version of it since the Renaissance when he stops by the Gioconda sketch. He almost gets distracted in the booze room, stops twice in the greenhouse room drinking in the life of it, the warmth, and once in the kitchen when Crowley quite literally starts running up the walls, Crowley has unspoiled food in an unplugged refrigerator and several coffee pots and machines. He has tea and sugar and just two of every china and silverware item. It makes him a little giddy, so he starts running again. Eight minutes later he has Crowley crowded against the entrance door.

“What happened to modesty?” Crowley asks, swallowing hard because Aziraphale is right there in front of him, naked and inching closer and closer, not touching him, not caging him with his arms but with the promise of a kiss.

“I had my tongue in your bumhole just under an hour ago” he retorts softly and teasing, hoping to see him flustered and stuttering but he laughs breathless and that is just as nice. Crowley’s wings are flat and low against the door and he could reach and touch them but instead he leans in the tip of his toes and kisses Crowley, and kisses Crowley, and kisses Crowley. It’s not desperate, there is no fear anymore, of rejection, of going too fast or too slow, of bursting into flames or someone interrupting them, someone condemning them. 

When he presses against him, Crowley skin is hot, he always is, even in the dead of winter, always seeking warm too, laying under the sun in the middle of the summer, lying next to the heater in winter, pulling at Aziraphale like a rock to sunbather. There are hands involved now, but they stay above the waist, tangled in hair, brushing off nipples, his are sensitives, he is still waiting for Crowley to realize, to take advantage of. 

He pushes against Crowley again, pinning him against the door, the same way he did so many hours ago when he first burst in uninvited, and something deep rumbles in Crowley’s chest, his wings move to spread high, to cover them from prying eyes and move him closer, his hands move idly over him and when Aziraphale thrusts lightly against him they hold him, grasping everywhere they can reach and settle in his waist, pulling him in, a far cry from the paralyzed thing he was at the beginning of the day. Crowley pushes back, because his hips have always had a mind of their own and Aziraphale moans low in his throat which makes Crowley whine needy. He is just coming to that realization, banishing the denial that covers this knowledge he’s always had, his demon is a needy thing, but not demanding, he would take whatever Aziraphale offers, but never asks and Aziraphale has been feeding him only scraps for far too much time.

Soon enough they find a slow rhythm, partly because Crowley is the responsible one and is stalling until food arrives, partly because they delight in the simple fact of feeling each other skin, breathing each other in without the urgency of culmination. Still, he can feel his dear through his underwear, long and solid against his hip and can’t help to respond in kind. He can feel his feathers brushing his back and flap exited at ankle height. Crowley holds his head only with the tip of his fingers, so delicately that Aziraphale knows he will cry drunk remembering it. 

He is getting impatient pulling and pushing and biting to make Crowley moan and want when the doorbell rings and Crowley jumps from his arms short of hitting his head on the tall ceiling thanks to his wings, in all fairness, Aziraphale’s heart had stopped beating which would be very troublesome if he were properly human and not only looked like one. Crowley glides down with a hand in his chest and opens the drawer of the cabinet next to the door -that Aziraphale only now realizes exists- to fish for a pair of sunglasses. Aziraphale moves to be covered by the door when it opens but before thinking he says.

“Are you going to open like that?” he asks scandalized looking pointedly at Crowley and his lack of clothes, and his purple neck and tights, at his abused nipples and half hard cock.

“Someone has to know that I was shagged to an inch of my life tonight!” he says grabbing for the doorknob before Aziraphale stops him again.

“Darling, if anything at least hide your wings…” it takes him a moment but Crowley's wings fold themselves over and disappear back into the shadows of the firmament, he looks abashed but he says nothing to Aziraphale who tries to look at him as sweetly and naively as he can without much results, but Crowley still groans the same way Aziraphale knows he does whenever he’s done something cute in the general direction of the demon. He opens the door hiding himself from Aziraphale and Aziraphale form the delivery person.

The transaction goes as expected, with a blushing but not surprised delivery boy that receives a disproportionate high tip after believing he wouldn't get any and realizing he wouldn't get lucky either, Crowley pays with a card that was not in the cabinet before and closes the door with an armful of food bags.

“Kitchen?”

“Would you indulge me in eating in bed tonight?” he asks taking one of the several bags, more to see what’s inside rather than to help Crowley, it was suspiro limeño. “You got us dessert!”

“Would you mind getting us some trays then?”

Aziraphale snaps his fingers and when they arrive to the bedroom there are several wooden trays to place the food, in the trays silverware for two, a couple of glasses and in every flat surface of the room that is not the bed lit candles, Aziraphale doesn't need to look at Crowley to know he is lifting a brow at him.

“I may have… overdone it” he says sitting on the right edge of the bed busing himself with his only bag, he hears Crowley chuckle at him, and he blushes slightly “but is romantic, isn’t it? Candlelight, nice food, nicer company...” Crowley is shaking his head at him, but it doesn’t matter because his smile is so soft, so fond he can tell even if he’s still wearing his glasses.

They spread the bag contents among the different trays and start to eat. Crowley had bought form the Nikkei place, but he had also asked the delivery boy to run by a patisserie, one of Aziraphale favourites, he realises when he sees the pastries. So they eat ceviche and tiradito and Peruvian sushi and Aziraphale takes small morsels of his deserts in between savoury dishes, they feed each other because Crowley has always spoiled him like that and this was the only the natural course of things, because he enjoys the way Crowley’s breath shakes when he licks food from his fingers, because he likes to feel the shape of Crowley’s tongue under his own and the way Crowley’s brows lift when he offers him something, opening his mouth to him like is the most natural thing for them. Aziraphale is halfway in his second dessert when he says. “I think we need to talk about something, love” 

Crowley panics.

He can feel it in the ripple of the air around them, see it in the way Crowley tenses besides him, his hand frantically looking for the glasses he had discarded while eating, he believes he hears a rattle somewhere but he can’t be sure. It makes his heart rocket inside his chest, a free fall without wings or parachute. Crowley looks ready for rejection, ready to be kicked out of Heaven again and this time he looks like he would not go without a fight and if Aziraphale knows his demon he knows that he deals with rejection in two ways, he lashes out, angry and hurt, aiming to being the one striking the biggest hit or he runs and hides and Aziraphale can’t reach him for months, can’t find him and even if he does he can’t still reach him because he has been asleep for a quarter of the century and plans to sleeps the rest of it away. So, he reaches fast, before Crowley strikes, before he runs. He wraps his hand around his wrist firm and gentle, the evening had been lovely, he can’t let it end like this, he can’t hurt Crowley again by inaction.

“No, Crowley, please, it’s not what you think, please, I’m staying, I’m not leaving to nowhere. Can you calm down, for me, please?” Crowley sits back on the bed, still tense, coiled and ready to attack and run, a wild animal wounded and scared “Crowley, love, love. I wanted to talk about boundaries, I wanted to talk about us, about what you like and what you don’t” he waves his free hand and there is nothing in the bed but them anymore. He cradles his face between his hands, pulling him in, crawling to him. They met in the middle. “Don’t be mad, don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere, I have no intention to leave you ever” he kisses Crowley’s cheeks, his forehead and eyes, and he can feel his tension seeping out of him slowly, and Crowley starts shaking so he holds him close, chest to chest and Crowley buries his face on his shoulder breathing unsteadily, his hands grabbing at his back, sharp nails digging in in an attempt to anchor himself, to make Aziraphale stay.

“‘m sorry, angel, sorry” he says after a while, too soft to be completely over it yet “I freaked out, I’m sorry”

“Shh shh shh is ok, love, I’m sorry too, it’s ok. It’s not your fault” somehow they find their way to lay back on the bed, hugging tight, breathing each other in, breathing the fear out, until Crowley stops trembling in his arms. They stay there still, petting each other, kissing each other’s faces, until it feels safe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to say that if the way i presented Crowley's crisis in here is not respectful or very ignorant i would apreciate if you let me know, i am in no way trying to portray it in a disrespectful way but the boys have trauma and i wanted to adress it. 
> 
> thank you for reading, coments are very apreciated even if i dont answer them (itz cuz idk what to say, i struggle)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has more of them talking than the chapter before and actually adressing some things, bit more angsty, just as smutty

“May I ask you what happened just now?” Aziraphale says breaking their silence, one of his hand traces circles in Crowley’s scalp, the other holds his hand over where he keeps a beating heart “I think I have an idea but I would like if you could tell me… only if you want, of course”.

Crowley buries his face deeper in the crook of the angel’s neck, and tightens his legs around him, he thinks of biting him and keeping quiet but the scent of the angel is calming and he does sounds earnest, so he whines wordlessly before answering, he must be feeling better, he thinks, if he is behaving like a child.

“I nnnhn-I thought you were leaving me. No. I knew you were leaving me...”

“Crowley I’d never…”

“I know, I just - I just… it’s just something that- I cannot even blame my brain ‘cuz it’s something that also happens when I’m not using this body- but. It’s something that happens in my brain, it jumps straight to the worse sometimes, and I was sure you were leaving, that you regretted this evening and of course, you’d be right, why would you want to stick around me, failed angel, failed demon, broken thing. And I know it’s not true” he hurries to say before Aziraphale interrupts him “I know you’d not leave me, not now, not after, after- but it doesn’t feel that way! I could see it _I don’t even like you_. I would have come crawling afterwards. I would have come crawling back to you. I always do…” he feels Aziraphale’s arm move to hold him, tightening around him and it takes him a moment before he talks.

“I thought it was something of that line…”

“Rejection sensitive dysphoria, is what the humans call it... it’s better than calling it hysteria at least” he says softly, it’s the first time he has said it out loud, recognized it to others “I try to keep up with what humans discover on themselves, see if it makes sense of the things that are fucked about me. Definitely have PTSD. You probably too, with the bathtub and all...I’m sorry I made you go through that”

“Don’t be. At least now I know what is that anxiety. And we don’t have to talk about it right now, if you don’t want to. But I want to listen, and I think we should talk about it, alright. I want to know how to help you with it, love” it’s not a command Crowley notices, Aziraphale is begging him, restrained and worried, to let him in, to share the things he has kept quiet, he lets a shaky breath, he can do it, he trust Aziraphale and Aziraphale won’t judge him, not about something like this, he can talk about it. But not now, not with Aziraphale warm against him, not with his rough hands petting him so gently.

“May I ask you, now? About your preferences?” Aziraphale asks trying to change the subject, rein it back to what he originally wanted to know “I’ll tell you mine too, of course, for example, I am not very fond of the things the human body produces, except saliva, come and...”

“Pussy juice” Aziraphale blushes and looks at him disapprovingly but doesn’t deny it or corrects him and Crowley feels more like himself again, annoying the angel with things he can’t really deny, harmless fun.

“Yes… pussy… juice” Aziraphale says visibly upset by the phrase and Crowley laughs “I am fine, also, with tears and with a little blood if things go out of hands but having them as main kinks is very perturbing to me” Crowley hums in agreement, his teeth are sharp and he has been wary of biting the angel so far “I don’t swear, unless I am too focused on something and my corporation goes in automatic mode. I also very much enjoy when you, in particular, crowd into my space in a threatening manner or try to immobilize me. I meant very much what I said about tying me to your bed, I’m particularly fond of white leader…”

“I _hate_ being ordered around” he says suddenly “I hate being told what to do. You are bossy, angel, but somehow, whenever you fancy something you manage to frame it like a suggestion, a bitchy one, mind you, but it’s always like you are asking a favour, like, you play to never really expect me to do them, which is bullshit, ‘cuz you know I will, and it’s always something I can do, but you are always so happy when I comply… I don’t really like blood either or pain play, overstimulation is ok, but I’m not- I’m not fond of pain. Not a fan of humiliation either, had my share, both sides of the coin, not my cuppa. If it’s with you, though... angel, you can do whatever you want with me, to me, really, I’ll accept it, I’ll take whatever you give me”.

“Yes… that’s the issue, love, I don’t want you to do that. That’s why I am asking you about your preferences and the things you don’t like. I know I am a handful. I am spoiled, and fussy and gluttonous, and I will want to do things with you, Crowley, believe me when I say that we could spend five years in this bed, naked, and I still would not be done with you. But only if you are enjoying it too. It's not worth it if you are not having as much fun as I am.”.

“I like spoiling you”

“I know you do, and I like being spoiled, specially by you, but not all the things you’ve done for me, that I have enjoyed, have been good for you, and I don’t want to push you into doing something just because I’m enjoying myself, unless you want to be pushed, and even in that case, I need to know what limits not to cross! And for that we need a word! Or a signal!” kinky Crowley thinks, but of course, it’s his angel, the one that hides fetish literature in the dark corners of his bookshop but knows by heart all Winnie the Poohs, the one that collects misprints of the bible and first editions of his favourite lover’s (until now Crowley hopes) works but also lets queer homeless kids steal his books and resell them to him over and over.

“I also don’t want you just being fine with whatever I offer,” he continues “it has never been enough. I want you to take, to demand from me the things I should have given you so long ago, the feelings I owe you. I want- I want to bring a balance to our relationship, start anew, I know I have always hold a sort of power in this thing he used to have, because you gave it to me, I guess in a way to make me feel safe with the thought of doing something I ‘shouldn't’, but I don't want that anymore, love.” It’s too much, for Crowley, too much, he wants to run. To change shapes, to stop listening, but Aziraphale is holding him tight, like he knows he wants to hide, so he burrows his face in Aziraphale’s skin but Aziraphale urges his face out, guiding him to look him in the eyes “I want us to be in equal ground, I want you to feel welcome enough, loved enough so that, if you fancy, you can pull me to you in the street and kiss me as if the world is ending again. Quite scandalous I know” Crowley snorts despite himself, thankful for the joke, “but I want you to feel comfortable and confident enough to do those kind of things, ah, public displays of affection as they call it know, I guess, and the intimate displays of affection too, without fear I may push you away or say no… most of the time. I know you, you serpent! You will want to do something scandalous in the most ill-timed moment just to get a rise out of me and I want you to know that I _will_ be weak and I _will_ give in but I _won’t_ be happy about it” he says in the same tone he uses when he knows Crowley had scammed someone for a rare edition of a book just to give it to Aziraphale and Crowley flat out laughs. But Aziraphale has replaced his smile with a very serious look, staring at him with an intensity Crowley is not really used to feel from the angel “I mean it when I say that want to give you everything, you said you would give me the world Crowley, I would burn it to ashes if you asked me to, if someone hurts you. I am not willing to stand by and look the other way while you suffer, not anymore”.

“Angel, I’m not…”

“Crowley, you just had an anxiety attack, you think you are the only one that has been observant and obsessing this past six millennia? It kills me, every time you lose a little faith in humanity, every time you wanted to crawl out of your skin just to avoid an assignment, every time I’ve said or done something that I don't mean, to keep you at arm’s length, or because I was scared or angry and I’ve hurt you, God I have been so horrible with you for so long and you still loved me”.

“Angel, no. you haven't”.

“Crowley, I know my sins, I’ve had time to face them, they are not with God, they are with you. I am trying to mend them, and four hours of lovemaking are not nearly enough. I owe you more than that.” Crowley kisses him, to shut him up, because he can’t keep listening to it, he is not worth it, he can’t handle it, it feels like Aziraphale is plucking the feathers of his wings so he can molt, like the scorch before shedding old skin, like someone putting cold gel on his sunstroked skin, cold and angryhot at the same time.

“Please stop. It’s been too long- I- I know we need to talk I know, but not all at once, it’s too much for me, it makes my scales crawl all over, it makes my feathers itch, its everything I want but I can’t bear it.” 

Crowley kisses him again before he can keep talking and he hopes the angel gets him, like he gets him most the time, like he refused to do when it came to _them_. Aziraphale melt to his kiss, to his tongue barely beaching his lips, and it’s thrilling, to manage this, to make Aziraphale stop thinking, to stops his fidgeting, to thaw his anxieties, to stop his own anxieties with just a touch of skin, skin that is not them but it’s theirs. When Aziraphale hands move over him aimless but having forgotten their usual nervousness he moves his mouth to down to Aziraphale’s neck where he kisses gently, no traces of teeth, barely a flicker of tongue and Aziraphale sighs as Crowley’s hands move over his chest, over his ribs and generous belly, pushing his fingers softly enough to make dips in their wake.

“Crowley! you-your preferences… I need to know” Aziraphale says when Crowley finally think he has forgotten about the subject, so he detaches himself from the candy that is Aziraphale’s nipple with a playful nibble that is mostly a promise that he’ll come back.

“They will take too long, angel!” he whines because the moment is lost and he refuses to be quiet like a mature person “I want to fuck you right now, not next week. Why don't we make a list with the things we like and the things we don't and the things we are willing to try, and we read them sometime next week?”

“Oh! That's a brilliant idea! I can look on my books, I have some very interesting ones that lists paraphilias that may be interesting!” Aziraphale says sitting up and Crowley can tell he is making a list of the books he wants to check, trying to remember where exactly he has the stored. “Of course, given our nature and situation we will need to add our own, wing kink I believe they call it in fan fiction sites! We can make a list! And just not write what we won’t ever do!”

“Or, y’know, photocopy them and highlight with colours…”

“We still need a safeword, though!”

“All right!” He groans “lest agree on a safe word, last one I used was…” oh, this is embarrassing he thinks “last one I used was ‘angel’…” he can feel Aziraphale petting his hair and scratching his scalp. looking at him, and he doesn't want to know what look it is, he refuses to look at Aziraphale and instead he, he bites at a soft spot down on the angel’s ribs, Aziraphale yelps and his fist tightens in his hair, it goes direct to his cock and makes him moan. Aziraphale pulls his hair further back and makes him look him in the eyes.

“Your safeword, love, please” he says smiling, what a bastard. Crowley retaliates by pinching hard his nipple 

“Apple” he says and Aziraphale lets go of his hair but he still maintains his grip on the angel’s nipple, “yours? You think you'll have it easy? Have you any idea the things I want to do to you?” Aziraphale whines and Crowley slides to nibble at his neck, Aziraphale’s skin there is softer than the rest of him, a thin sheet of sweat gathering there that Crowley takes pleasure on drinking.

“A-Ark” he rewards him by letting go of his nipple but angling down to kiss it better, as an apology he laps it down with his forked tongue and peppers kisses around it. He does the same to the other one, no pinching this time, no biting either, until it’s hard and red. He moves between the angel’s things and finds him mostly hard against him.

“Aren't you going to change?” He says sliding his fingers over Aziraphale’s cock too soft of a caress to be anything but a tease “To something more convenient?” 

“I’m rather quite fond of sodomy, you see. Both roles” he says shamelessly between gasps, and that's alright Crowley thinks, he’d wanted to do this too, at some point, to be able to touch him and love him all the ways humans love each other’s. Then he comes with an idea. 

He stays put where he is, busy trying to discover the places that makes Aziraphale squirm. Sucking bruises in the meaty part of Aziraphale’s arms makes the angel gasp and scratching the space between his ribs makes him ark his back and beg for more. Crowley delights himself in kissing down his torso, in stroking Aziraphale’s cock and balls with a feather light touch that has the angel whining underneath him, in teasing with a lubed finger Aziraphale’s pucker, by the time he has reaches the angel’s navel he has left a purple trail of love marks down to it navel where he dips his tongue at the same time he pushes his forefinger inside the angel. Aziraphale moans loudly and opens his legs further to accommodate Crowley between his tights, and Crowley laughs, because is the soft touches that manage to make Aziraphale speechless. 

“Have you ever heard of dry coming, angel?” he says when he gets his second finger inside Aziraphale, feeling for the angels prostate and the angel has definitely spend too much time with him because he makes a long noise composed by only consonants, its sounds closer than a no than a yes and that’s just perfect for what he is planning. He fists the base of Aziraphale’s cock and scissors his fingers inside of the angel just to hear him moan. “I’ll take it as a no then” he says finally finding that spot inside the angel and skimming his fingers over it. “It’s when humans with male genitalia go through an orgasm without the release of semen.” Aziraphale moans again and Crowley tightens his grip on Aziraphale, “it is _very_ intense, angel” he pulls his fingers out and pushes just one in, pressing upwards and Aziraphale bucks his hips up, then with his thumb he presses over Aziraphale’s taint and the angel cries out his name. 

Crowley kisses down his angels soft and fair things and lays his head in one of them

“I love your thighs lover boy; I could live between them. Wouldn’t you like that?” before Aziraphale can try to answer he pulls his finger out and push two inside pressing at Aziraphale’s prostate, he spreads them inside Aziraphale and moves them out around the nub and then back in back together in a steady pace, every so often he’d circle them around and he’d press to Aziraphale’s prostate from outside. “You having your thighs pressing against my ears, with your cock buried inside my throat, or having them pulling me inside you, gosh, Aziraphale, I wanna be inside you”

“Crowley! Oh, Crowley! Touch me, please!” 

“I am touching you, love” he says with a well-placed trust of his hand, Aziraphale is trembling underneath him, grasping at the sheets, moving his hips trying to match the rhythm of his hand and Crowley allows himself to lick the tip of the angels cock, there is nothing coming from there thanks to his grip at the base but is still hard and it looks as massive as it felt inside of him. He lets his mouth slide down, back to Aziraphale’s legs, to suck a hickey in the juncture of the left leg where the skin is almost translucent and Aziraphale’s veins can be seen ancient gold. 

“I can’t, I can’t Crowley I want to come, let me come please” Aziraphale sobs and it make Crowley almost have pity on him. Almost. He increases his rhythm and noses at Aziraphale’s balls before moaning and saying.

“But you’re so close, lover boy, look at you, so gorgeous, you can come angel? Can you come for me? Can you do that?” Aziraphale’s trashes his head against the pillows as a no, sobbing now, it feels good, Crowley knows it feels good, otherwise Aziraphale would have pushed him away a while ago, otherwise he wouldn’t he still hard and twitching every time Crowley’s long fingers press against his prostate. “You have to let go, angel, let it happen. like your first orgasms, do you remember your first? Did you had a cock or a cunt? It wasn’t with me, of course, it wasn’t with me, how much I wish it would have been with me” Aziraphale’s breath is rushed and shallow and there are frustration tears rolling down his cheeks and Crowley wants to kiss them, but he wants to make Aziraphale feel this much more than that. “Maybe you just need another finger” and without detours he adds another one, Aziraphale’s flesh lets him in like it wouldn’t deny him anything and when the 3 fingers reach their aim Aziraphale shouts and shakes apart, his cock jerking violent but uselessly when nothing comes out and his channel contracting around his fingers and Crowley knows he’s done a good job because Aziraphale’s breathing pattern changes. Gulping big swallows of air and letting it out in a shaky exhale.

Crowley can’t help himself and lets go of Aziraphale’s still stiff cock to fit it in his mouth, its rather amazing for him to think he almost has to unhinge his jaw to fit it all, but he swallows him down twice before going up to kiss his lover, is lips and his eyes and the tear trails on his cheeks.

“You did so good, Aziraphale. You looked amazing you sounded amazing. You did so good” he comforts him because the angel is still trembling in his arms with the aftershocks of pleasure. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen, was it good for you? Did you like it?” Aziraphale only whimpers and nods against his lips rubbing his face against him like a sick pet and Crowley peppers kisses all over his face and neck. “I want to be inside you, angel, I’m gonna get inside you now”. 

He’s hard, he’s been hard for so long but having Aziraphale come for him was more important and when he aligns and slides in, Aziraphale’s flesh surrenders to him welcoming and warm and he is still pulsing from dry orgasms. Crowley buries his face in Aziraphale’s sweat damp neck, breathing him in, tasting the endorphins purging from his body with his sweet sweat and when he bottoms in Aziraphale gasps and opens more eyes than what he had a minute ago and he feels at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi~~
> 
> I have decided to finish the fic next chapter. mostly because im runing out of positions for them to have sex and still make it sound natural. Nnext chapter will probably take more time than usual because i dont really have much of it, only a vague idea of what I want from it. (I still dont like the title of this fic, tho)

It feels right, it feels so right. It's not the fact that he is inside of Aziraphale and his heat is scorching, burning holy in the best of ways, is the fact that he is loving, finally, unapologetic, open and bold. He is allowed to love, to play an active role on it, not in the side-lines, not in the dark, not in the receiving end of something unrequired and ephemeral, and the force of it has him paralyzed, and the heat of Aziraphale keeps him in place because this is where he is meant to be. Not in Hell where everything is pain and guilt and fear, where every nice thing comes from wrestling it from another. Not in Heaven where everything is lonely and stern, and goodness has been forgotten and fair has been changed for obedience. Here on Earth, with this skin that now smells like Aziraphale, with his touch that is not meant to hurt, where the sins of the flesh are also the peaks of love and if he bleeds someone will heal him, and if he cries Aziraphale is going to be there to pick up the pieces of his broken self.

But now, right now, Aziraphale is the one shaking underneath him, holding onto him with his strong hands, whimpering like a wounded animal, eyes closed tight, trying to move, trying to stay still and let himself feel, trying pull him deeper, to fuse their skins together to become one. Crowley’s hips move slowly, unprompted, a serpentine sway that make Aziraphale’s whimpers increase, it's good, it’s sweet, it won’t make them come but it allows him to feel Aziraphale, to run his hands over his soft body, over his impatient skin.

Aziraphale breath has finally gone back to a regular pattern. Funny thing breathing, Crowley likes breathing, it allows him to smell, his sharpest sense, to know what is happening around him, how the world changes around him. His vision is not the best among his kind, is up there with humans’, it lets him take in the world, it lets him read and look at Aziraphale and the way he interacts with Earth, when he eats, when he laughs, when he looks at him with his pleading light eyes. He can see, if he tries, if Aziraphale has his walls down, his grace, the light that ignites Aziraphale from within and bleeds in everything he does, in everything he loves. And he is there, this close to his angel, and the edge is off, there is no desperate need, there is no time running out, there is no doubt or longing. This is indulgence. They still have millennia of love to spill between them and they will have time for that later. And he is there, seen Aziraphale shine though his skin, smelling his book dust scent, his lust and need and sweat, smelling with his tongue, how much Aziraphale wants him still, the sweet suspiro limeño of his mouth, the burning taste of his grace.

The rise and fall of Aziraphale chest marks the rhythm of his hips and he breathes with Aziraphale, his chests tight against the angels, moving on time with him, chasing away the atoms that are between their bodies and Aziraphale is still pulling at him like he wants to consume him, to absorb Crowley through his pores and it makes his movement sharper, but Crowley wants to feel, to really feel Aziraphale and for Aziraphale to feel him, slowly and thoughtfully and drive him mad, make him crave his flesh, become a need, a drug, his next sugar addiction, compete with God’s own love for the being that loves Aziraphale most. Aziraphale was made a warrior, he was made for war and he had given away his sword, giving away his purpose, had chosen a kinder way, had chosen to help (even if he may have messed up a couple of times) Aziraphale had rejected it and if God wants him to fight Crowley would fight Them so Aziraphale can realize that he took the right decision. Crowley wants to make him feel like Aziraphale can allow himself to be soft and not worry about what anyone has to say about it. Crowley was never meant to fight anyone, but he’d wreak hell if it means to make Aziraphale feel safe.

Aziraphale wraps his legs around him and pulls him and tries to roll them over, to take charge of the pace, and the image of the angel riding his dick until kingdom come is extremely tempting but Crowley wants to devour him, slowly take him apart and relish on the desperation of pleasure not reaching its peak. Crowley just wants to make him feel good. He allows them a hard trust that steals Aziraphale’s breath from him and finds his hands, laces their fingers together and move their hands besides the angel’s his head, his curly fair hair framing his round face like a halo and Crowley wonders what would be like to make love in their true forms. Aziraphale bucks up to him again and tries to turn them over again, but not really meaning to, if he wanted, Aziraphale would already have Crowley at his mercy and Crowley knows it.

“Don’t make me pin you down, loverboy, I’ll wrap around you with my tail, I’ll hold you down with all my six hands, keep you still like a pretty precious prey… one day, if you wanna.” He whispers the threat playfully to Aziraphale ear, and his voice is a coarse hiss, he doesn’t want to do that today though “Let me make you feel today. Let me love you like you deserve”

“Harder” Aziraphale breathes and its intoxicating better than any drug he’s tried “please”.

“No.” Crowley knows that if his angel begs he’ll most definitely give in, but he wants to do it his way, at least this one time “I want you to feel me, the drag of me, if you ever come to right mind I want you to remember, the feel of me, the shape of me, my smell, I want you to be your best mistake, when you close your eyes I want you to feel me inside so you can never forget the night I loved you” he should shut up, he should stop talking, Aziraphale loves him, Aziraphale has come to his flat for him, but centuries and centuries of insecurities and fears come spilling out of him like the flow of a wounded artery and all he can do before everything is red is try to word it better, try not to sound as desperate as he feels, as scared as he is, as lost as he is whenever Aziraphale is not close.

“I won’t ever, I won’t leave you, please faster love, I want you, I want you, Crowley” Aziraphale whines but Crowley doesn’t speeds up, he doesn’t push harder, he just buries himself deeper with each trust, he kisses him slow and steady, swallowing his moans swallowing his breath, and it feels like a little eternity of torturing Aziraphale with love when Aziraphale comes. He comes when Crowley lets go of his hand and caresses down his cheek like he’s always wanted to do, like his hands used to burn for before _this_ _._ It’s sudden and breathless and raw, neither of them expecting it. It is then when Crowley speed up.

He sits up quick as a snake and lets his hands grip on Aziraphale’s hips, lifting him out of the bed, only his head and shoulders against the mattress, gropes his tights and arse, pulling him further open slamming fast and hard and Aziraphale shouts, fisting the sheets behind his head, fighting to push away and to pull closer with the very tip of his toes that barely grace the bed

“Stop! Crowley please, please!” He begs because Crowley strikes him in the right spot every time, because when Crowley is flush with him he’d roll his hips purposefully, pulling him into it, pressing his fingers like a brand on his skin and then slamming back in again.

“Use your word, lover boy, like we agreed, like you told me to do” Crowley pushes and ruts and waits and Aziraphale shouts and moans and sobs and says nothing, holds tighter to the sheets and Aziraphale is the stronger of the two, but Crowley is strong enough to hold him with one skinny arm, keep him high to slide his now free hand and fondle one of his soft pecs, pinch his nipple, leave it hard and red and sensitive and his cock is still soft and over stimulated and Aziraphale wants to swat his hand away but Crowley lets go of him to rake his nails down his soft torso leaving angry red lines and takes him in hand, strokes him as hard and fast at the same time his hips move again and he can see the dip of the rest of his hands on Aziraphale soft flesh, holding him up and pulling his legs further open, summoning his six hands without meaning to, but it works and Crowley uses Aziraphale’s cold come as lube to get him off, tightening his grip on the soft flesh without warning, to make his scream, he is a demon after all and has dreamt of having Aziraphale screaming for him for nearly as much time as he knows the angel.

“You are so gorgeous, angel, Aziraphale, so gorgeous, I’m going to break you, I’m going to make you come apart, for me, just for me, only for me, I’m going to ruin you, so when you think of sex you only think of my cock and my arse, my mouth on you, my cunt on your tongue”

“ ** _Yes_ **” Aziraphale’s voice echoes otherworldly on his room, like he is shaking out of his body, like he is dragging the celestial boom of his voice down to Earth.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard, lover boy, so many times, you’ll forget anyone else ever loved you, oh-oh, fuck. I’m gonna come inside you, angel, and I won’t stop, I’m gonna mark this body of yours from the inside, again and again tonight, you are mine tonight, my angel, and I won’t let go” Crowley buries himself hard in Aziraphale once more, the deepest he can get without melting theirs skins, and releases himself with a choked sob, _oh, he loves him_ he wants to say, he wants to scream. 

There is a moment when he sees himself with Aziraphale’s eyes and feels what he feels and it’s the sight of himself, undone and wild, borderline feral, the burning hot feeling of him inside the angel’s guts that makes it for Aziraphale again, who comes in thick ropes all over himself.

They breath each others skin, coming back to their own selves slowly like spilled honey, because he has made a mess of Aziraphale, because his synapses are fried, and Crowley doesn’t know if he can move without discorporating.

“Good Lord, Crowley, how long have you been holding that in?!” Aziraphale says hoarse and tired, Crowley thinks he should bring him honey tea for his throat but he can barely move, he whines high on the angel’s neck where is the place he landed after blacking out a few seconds after coming, and it’s his current favourite place in the entire universe.

“A few millennia? Before the oyster business, I think. Maybe Babel. I’m sorry”

“Goodness! Oh, dear, don’t apologize. That one was yours, right? Babel? You loved it…” Stars, Aziraphale has too much energy, he wonders if he is going to have to start to drink energetics to keep up with him before remembering he himself is fuelled by anxiety and boredom “Crowley, do you realize that you are not a mistake? I want this, I came here, on my own volition, because I cannot bear the thought of not being around you for more than 12 hours. We live eternally Crowley, 12 hours is but a blink of an eye for us and I still can't think of being away from you and now that he have become intimate the thought of not having you like this again would break me” Crowley buries himself further on Aziraphale’s neck and tightens his arms around him, only two hands this time, it still hard to hear, even if he knows it’s truth. “Oh you are a needy thing, and me with my greed? What will we do with ourselves?”

“We can keep fucking...” he offers and shifts a little so Aziraphale can feel him inside still, half hard and ready to go on command, Aziraphale gasps a bit dizzy, a bit giddy “I told you, I want to mark you, so no one approaches you with ill intent… and you said- you said you wanted to leak me for a month…” he lets his tongue fork and licks the inside of Aziraphale’s ear and Aziraphale tenses and moans and then Crowley blows a raspberry on Aziraphale’s neck making him laugh and the sound of it has always remind him of the river where he first made him laugh with a silly rhyme he heard the few humans recite, when their giggles die and Aziraphale’s hand has find again its spot between Crowley’s hair and he ask “Angel, did we almost changed bodies just then?”

“I think… I think we did” he answers candid and pretty before dragging him for a kiss so full of love it burns, and he can’t resist it.

Crowley is not quite sure how they ended up like this but he is sitting against the headboard of his bed, cross-legged still between Aziraphale’s legs, flush against his skin, hips moving sinuously slow in a way that cannot possibly be human, his long cock rubbing against the angel in a way that doesn’t allows either of them focus on anything but each other, Aziraphale can’t even cross his legs behind him because one of them is laying heavily on Crowley’s shoulder and Crowley looks, wide eyed and reverent, feeding himself off of the sight of his love, of his ivory skin and golden veins, of his nectar sweet sweat. He is holding Aziraphale’s hands, fingers interlocked, neither paying attention to Aziraphale’s cock, bobbing between them unattended, it feels like they have been going at it for hours this time losing themselves on each others love and Aziraphale doesn’t even cares, because he is looking back at him, the rest of his eyes coming into existence to look, take him in and lazily blinking before fading away. Crowley has no idea how he looks, he doesn’t wants to think about it, all he knows is that his eyes are that hideous yellow colour all the way though and that the scales at his feet shift every time Aziraphale clamps down on him, but Aziraphale is looking at him like the sun rises and dawns on his whim, like he invented sugar and flour and taught humanity how to combine them.

Crowley changes the angle of his hips, looking to make it last even longer, looking to make it good for Aziraphale, he doesn’t even care about himself either, not with Aziraphale underneath him panting his name, not with his angel holding onto his hands so hard both theirs knuckles are white and Aziraphale moans loudly, throwing his head back, wild and breathless and dozens of his eyes open, wide and unblinking to look at him and they are beautiful, Aziraphale keeps them away most of the time and Crowley is not used to see them, they are the same colour as his corporation’s eyes but some of them don’t have a pupil, some of them don’t have a sclera, some of them are just blue orbs that seem to look beyond his corporation, seen him for what he truly is and Crowley would rather him not see the sharp broken bits of his soul but those eyes still look at him with a love as endless as creation and he feels lost and comforted. And for the love of everything he still holds dear he is not sure he will ever get used to Aziraphale looking at him so openly in love.

“I can feel it,” Aziraphale gasps, pulling him out of the trance his eyes have caught him into “I can feel you, Crowley don’t stop, don’t ever stop, you love me, you love me, you love me” and as he says that his eyes light up white, holy, “it’s all around me I can feel it pouring out of your soul, Crowley is so pure and selfless, oh! Yes! Right there! Crowley fill me up, with your love and your cum, I want it all, I want you Crowley, be mine, only mine” 

“I am, I am” he breathes and it feels like too much, he is too exposed, cut open in display to be dissected and examined but he feel safe nonetheless, because Aziraphale rough hands still hold his in a tight grip, like he is scared he will slither away from him.

“Say it, Crowley please say it” Aziraphale asks, bucking against him, becoming desperate, messing with the languid cadence of his hips “let me hear you say it again, please”

“Aziraphale” Crowley can barely talk, he can barely think and he doesn't know what his angel wants but the words still spill form his mouth like a prayer “I love you” and it seems like it was the right thing to say because Aziraphale comes then, untouched and overwhelmed and it happens again, he feeling himself on the angel skin, he feeling himself with the angel abilities and overwhelming as it is, he senses it too, for the first time since it exists, he senses love, Aziraphale’s love for him and all the angel eyes are crying and he is crying too and Aziraphale love is greedy and selfish and expansive, Aziraphale would trap him in the bookshop, keep him there so no one can see him, no one can stole him from his insatiable need to love, but it shows him too how much Aziraphale would protect him, regardless of his own cowardice, regardless of his own safety and he understand, finally, 1862, and 1967 and 41 A.D. and the Saturday before the end of the world, and he can feel his heartache of then and his joy of now.

When he comes back to himself his legs are finishing turning back into legs and his claws have left golden wound of Aziraphale’s hand but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to care and he thinks he needs to rest before trying another go, because his corporation can keep going but it has been too emotional for him to handle because it seems that the feeling keep getting bigger and bigger the more they make love. He plops himself at Aziraphale’s left and he is not sure if Aziraphale would prefer if he cleans him up or keep him inside but by the time his fingers try to find their way to Aziraphale’s hole the angel had already miracled a but plug for himself

“Mmm… kinky” he manages to say, nosing Aziraphale white fluffy hair and miracling themselves clean everywhere else.

He knows Aziraphale is happy when he listens him start to hum something old and soft that he most definitely knows but can’t remember because his mind is already making a nebula of different uncomplete and unrelated thoughts half scattered questions, half dramatic declarations of love.

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to have sex without at least one of us crying?” he asks startling the angel, his voice louder than he meant to.

“I thought you were sleep, beloved!” Aziraphale says and because apparently he was just waiting for Crowley to wake up to do so he pulls him closer, almost on top of him and kisses the sigil the side of his face before answering “Do you want to? I find it quite cathartic”

“I mean, it kinda is, but I want to stop crying every time you touch me, and I don’t see that happening anytime soon… I also don’t want to stop having sex, not at least for now, though, there are decades in which I just, I don’t need it? And decades in which I’d fuck anything consenting and over 22. I dunno how it happens with you.” He is starting with _that_ mood - a dangerous thing - the one made him fall, but that also makes him feel like a kid discovering the world, there are so many questions popping up in his head, he has lived through all history and there are so many things he still doesn’t know, he has known Aziraphale for all that time and there are still things he doesn’t know about him, and he has to know, he craves that knowledge, of the things that would have hurt him before, of the things that can still hurt him.

“Usually I’m presenting the same gender as the person I am sleeping with identifies…” Aziraphale mumbles mindlessly but Crowley’s mind is already buzzing with half formed questions he must ask. 

“Do you think we are the only uhm… celestials? that have fallen in love?” he asks propping himself on one bony elbow to look at his angel.

“I don’t quite think so. though, we probably are the only ones that have acted on it, at least in a physical and very obvious way. The rest usually doesn't have bodies...”

“Well, it’s not easy to hide it for long when your sweetheart is in the opposite political party…”

“Political party, hmm, I like the implications of that. Are we the third option?”

“Could be. I don’t know about up there, but some demons could really enjoy living here on Earth being just mild to medium annoyances. Tell you something, incubi and succubi would have a blast without having to go back down to fill in paperwork, violence against sex workers would decrease because you don’t just beat the shit out of a demon and come out unscattered and that would make sex trafficking a whole lot more difficult with how space and time don’t really apply to us unless we want to…”

“But wouldn’t that leave a lot of people jobless?”

“If all goes according to my five years plan, I’m gonna burst the capitalist bubble by 2024. It’s gonna be a mess, loads of jobless people, but if some human likes to make money out of recording themselves getting fucked they’ll still gonna make cash outta it. You’ll must help me with the rest of them, angel.”

“O-oh dear, all right. I must say, Heaven has instilled on us that demons are incapable of love-” Crowley doesn’t let him finish.

“That’s bullshit!” he may not like the rest of his kind but some of them didn't deserve to fall either, so he won't stand to the slander.

“Maybe in your case… ”

“No, angel, it’s actual bullshit. I’m not the only demon that can feel good emotions, it’s just… it’s hard to do it when all around you is pain and fear and you can feel it, others people's fear, and when you try to help they lash at you cuz y’know, it’s scary, and sometimes they do want to hurt you, so you just bite back. You suppress the things that can make you weak, vulnerable, and loving something means that you have something to lose.”

“But you love so much…”

“I had reasons to come back and stay up here, even before I realized I loved you, humans like me and that is more that I can say from most demons, and people owed me favours. A lot of the tasks I had to do they were from other demons that did not wanted to deal with coming to Earth and then the paperwork of it. I’m also smart and quick and can talk myself out of situation because even if demons lie a lot, they don’t have the imagination to figure out that half of what was coming out of my mouth was a lie with a little bit of truth. think about all my commendations! If I tempted them to believe me, because it made their life easier, well, that’s my things, isn’t it? My power as you may call it”

“Talking about powers… How did you do it? Stopping time?”

“Well when you work shaping balls of blazing gas you need to make them stay still some way, I did not realize that what was holding them was time until I tried that thing in Tadfield. And a planet is easier to keep still than a star.”

“Don’t tell me you have lived here six millennials and forgot you could do that” Aziraphale scoff. 

“Hey! You still forget sometimes how to speak mandarin! Besides, there is a ton of things you forget after a traumatic event…”

“You have never really told me why you fell.” The angel pokes and the answer comes before he can think if he can talk about or not. apparently he can so he starts ranting.

“Its cuz I didn’t! it was more of like, instead of ‘get the fuck outta my house you are death to me’ it was like ‘if you cross that door you can forget about coming back’ and I crossed. You know what’s like? What it felt like? In human experiences it was like getting kicked out of your house because you are gay, you didn’t do anything wrong, you just told you mum that you do not adhere to heteronormative standards and traditions and she kicks you outta the house outta the fucking nowhere. And you find yourself homeless and cold and scared and the people that can offer you some kind of roof are kinda bad people that did hit their mothers and stole money from their nans but you got nowhere else to go so you gotta say that yeah, you like to kick puppies and shit. And after years she finds you again and tells you to go back home and that she overreacted and that’s ok if you like cock or cunt or both or none, but it’s been fucking years!”

“She has been talking to you!?” he sits up making Crowley groan because now he has to talk about it more.

“There has been… attempts… after Armageddon’t. I’ve left them in the metaphorical read. I don't know how to deal with that.”

“But what did She do? She hasn’t spoken to anyone since Old Testament times, Crowley! And we are not in a time where She appears as a burning bush to talk to you”

“They changed the music on the Bentley! One moment is Freddy singing about arse and bikes and then Eduardo Peralta’s ‘Tu eres un monstruo’ is playing. It wasn't like when Satan talks to me through the radio and I didn’t know what to do! I turned it off! Almost crash with Oxford Circus metro station! People shouting everywhere at 10 a.m!”

“I don’t think I know the song…” Aziraphale muses ignoring half of what he is saying.

“Look it up yourself, it’s awfully embarrassing”

“Please?” Aziraphale asks him, blinking his pretty eyes at him, pouting with his pink kissed mouth and Crowley grunts and whines and miracles his mobile to his hand. Aziraphale laughs a lung after remembering he knows Spanish and keeps a hold on him so Crowley can’t even hide inside of his sheets out of embarrassment. Aziraphale makes it up for it by peppering kisses all over his face so insistent he doesn’t let him time to breath.

“I just hope She doesn’t try to claim being the one who loves you the most, my love”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you for reading! 
> 
> to the people that have left comments, thank you! I almost get teary eyes when i read them the first time.
> 
> [this](url) is the song that God send to Crowley, basically is about a father singing to his mischiveous son. It felt awfully acurate for what I picture God's relationship with Crowley is, even if Crowley doesnt agree. its a cute song and weiirdly kinda plays with Crowley thinking he is well, a monster.
> 
> And this are the lyrics translated (I recomend you to listen to the song while reading the translation because otherwise the tone is way off):
> 
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Pero yo te quiero  
> Porque eres sincero  
> Bueno como el pan  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Sencillo y amable  
> Dulce y amigable  
> Si la amistad te dan  
> Y aunque tu eres un monstruo  
> Yo te imagino aquí en mi canción  
> Y aunque tu eres un monstruo enojón  
> Yo te doy mi corazón  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Y mi amigo eres  
> Pues también me quieres  
> Y me tratas bien  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Y de los mejores  
> Coleccionas flores  
> De esas que no se ven  
> Y aunque tú eres un monstruo  
> Yo te imagino aquí en mi canción  
> Y aunque tú eres un monstruo enojón  
> Yo te doy mi corazón  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> De costumbres modernas  
> No andas en las cavernas  
> Como es la tradición  
> Tu eres un monstruo  
> Que asustado en su cama  
> Contempla un programa  
> De horror en televisión  
> Y aunque tu eres un monstruo  
> Yo te imagino aquí en mi canción  
> Y aunque tú eres un monstruo enojón  
> Yo te doy mi corazón  
> Du [...]
> 
> You are a monster  
> You are a monster  
> But I love you  
> Because you are sincere  
> Good like white bread  
> You are a monster  
> Unafected and kind  
> Sweet and friendly  
> If friendship is offered to you  
> And even though you are a monster  
> I picture you here in my song  
> And even though you are a grumpy monster  
> I give you my heart  
> You are a monster  
> And you are my friend  
> Because you also love me  
> And you dont mistreat me  
> You are a monster  
> One of the bests  
> You collect flowers  
> Those you cannot see  
> And even though you are a monster  
> I picture you here in my song  
> And even though you are a grumpy monster  
> I give you my heart  
> You are a monster  
> Of modern customs  
> You dont hang around on caves  
> As is tradicion  
> You are a monster  
> That scared on his bed  
> Watches a horror  
> Tv show  
> And even though you are a monster  
> I picture you here in my song  
> And even though you are a grumpy monster  
> I give you my heart  
> Du [...]


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the final chapter!! i hope you have enjoyed yourselfs
> 
> i want to thank @fail-writer that has put up with me through the whole proses
> 
> yall i started this in nanowrimo i never though i would write so much, less alone about self indulgent sex. i actually kept writing it because there is a bunch of "marathon sex" fic that only have like one position? like, they can do more, even more with the husbands that are not bound to any tipe of corporation or effor? so, yea.

“Crowley, I think God still loves you.” Aziraphale says a, bit teasing a bit earnest, still giggling, wiping away the merry tears that roll down his cheeks.

“They haven't apologised.” Crowley most definitely doesn’t pout, Crowley has never pouted in his entire existence and won’t start now, no matter what Aziraphale says or implies “there’s a whole bunch of things They have to apologize for first. Honestly, I’m one of the least important ones...”

“You deserve an apology” Aziraphale’s voice is soft and still full of laughter but when Crowley looks at him there is no trace of irony or scorn in his eyes. Months ago, Aziraphale would have never admitted to something like that, but months ago Warlock was still the antichrist and Aziraphale was still denying they even knowing each other. “although, have you given Her the chance? it’s not easy for Her to come down here, She’ll burn everything if She comes mindlessly, maybe She is trying not to turn the entire population of London into salt. I can’t say I understand Her motives. And people don’t listen to burning bushes anymore.

“I wouldn't put that past Them to burn the entirety of. But I remember their presence, they don’t need disguise Themselves or anything, I’d recognise Them just the same.” Crowley stays quiet, there is something Aziraphale should know, just in case, just if he has any illusion of it “I don’t want to become an angel again, Aziraphale” he says and his voice is softer than what he had hoped for, somewhat scared of what the angel may think of him. But Aziraphale just looks at him, the same way he has been looking at him since Armagenddon’t, and squeezes his hand gently, urging him to go on “I left for a reason. I just never though Hell would become what I is. I thought… I thought we would be like humans that we would be able to choose. But everyone was too scared and traumatised and the ones shouting louder and hitting harder became our leaders. Satan - fuck it I don’t work for him anymore – Lucifer, he was all that and smart too.”

“But you are all that too”

“I didn’t know I was strong,” Crowley says a bit scared of the revelation, he has never thought himself as strong, or powerful or anything of that line, he wasn’t created to fight and he liked that about himself, even if he had had to learn it anyway, “and I don’t want to fight. I’m not scary and I like to make people think, that’s my whole thing. And they didn’t want to think. They just wanted someone to blame.”

“Well… I don’t blame you,” Aziraphale says, shifting and moving until they are both laying on their sides, holding each other “not for not wanting to be an angel again, nor for tempting the humans to think. They ended up rather well, don’t you think? With all their inventions and discoveries, if they hadn’t started to think, they wouldn’t have invented books. And all the things they do to improve food are quite remarkable. And those are only two of my favourite thing humans do, that we can enjoy, because you told them its ok to think for themselves. That we can enjoy because you’ve met me here in the middle.”

“I love you, Aziraphale”

“I love you too, Crowley” he says before leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. “I would love you even more if you find some nice wine for us to share, I’m feeling celebratory” the angel says without a smidge of embarrassment and Crowley, because it’s his flat, and because he is in love with a bastard has to comply.

When Crowley comes back to the room, with a nice bottle of champagne and no cups, there is a woman in his bed. Well, not exactly a woman. Aziraphale shapes are rounder and fuller and the hair of his head has grown to a darling lob of tight ringlets as fair as sunlight on winter. He is laying on the bed - a stark white presence on his black sheets- one leg crossed over the other, feet bouncing on the air in a relaxed manner that betrays the fact of how studied Aziraphale had positioned himself because Crowley knows he does not bounces his feet, he fidgets with his hands. the position of his crossed legs keeps him from seen if he really changed there between his legs, but Crowley can see the silver blue gleam of the plug still nursed tightly between his round cheeks. Crowley feels his mouth dry and water at the same time because it’s not only that. the way Aziraphale is propped on the bed would have his breasts spilling were not for the way his arms are crossed, making them pop towards his neck and Crowley wants to get his mouth on everywhere of him (her?) again

“Oh, ‘ello there” he says with a singsong of his now higher voice, he says like he is not aware he looks different, like he is not aware of Crowley’s cock rising to the vision and his higher functions shutting down.

“Pronouns” he croaks, the bottle disappearing from his hand, he knows he’ll find it latter if he looks for it in the kitchen.

“Whatever you’d like to call me, beloved”

“Angel” Crowley whines, he thought he had his share for the day, that they’d drink the wine, sleep a little and move on, that he could take Aziraphale out for a nice dinner/lunch/brunch whatever mealtime is, he tough they could walk around St. James Park and led Aziraphale on with small touches in barely appropriate places, and salacious whispers, let their desire simmer under their skins and refuse to go back to his flat or the bookshop until they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and then fuck desperately against any surface as soon as the doors are closed and there are no prying eyes. he wasn't counting on Aziraphale changing efforts, changing shapes. 

“You were having so much fun with one of this during the evening I thought I’d indulge. No refractory period to miracle off, right?” He dares to talk about it like if he would be talking about shoes, about a new telly, all the while he opens his legs for him, and the scent reaches him unassuming, human and angelic, and absolutely alluring, it’s different form the scent of Aziraphale’s sweat or the tang of his come, but before he can dive tongue first into the wetness of him Aziraphale extends his arms - less hairy, softer, rounder - towards him in an invitation and his beasts spill from the contention of its frames heavy and soft and Crowley wants to weep.

It’s been centuries. It’s been centuries since Aziraphale has worn the skin of a woman and Crowley loves him in any and all shapes, mortal or not, but he has a soft spot for soft pillowy tits. More so if said soft pillowy tits belong to the love of his eternal life. Crowley had wanted to know how it feels to lay his head and nap on Aziraphale breasts since the first time he manifested them. He has wondered how they would fill his mouth; how soft they could be if he ever was allowed a handful of them.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks when he doesn’t move, arms falling slightly.

“I can’t- I don’t I don’t know where to start” 

“Uhm, well, if it’s any help, I can summon a vulva anytime but I did summoned a bosom for a reason” Aziraphale says and Crowley is not used to his voice being anything but deep honey even during a fit, Aziraphale voice is higher now, gives him a self-conscious smile and oh no, oh no, no, no. The angel is the most beautiful woman-shaped being that has set foot on this beautiful bitch of an Earth and Crowley won't have him thinking anything less of that.

“Elope with me!!” Crowley shouts, managing to make Aziraphale smile again “You are the most beautiful creature on Earth, let me make a respectable woman outta you!” he says crawling on the bed and grabbing Aziraphale’s hands, kissing them, all the roughness of them, a little smaller but still square, Aziraphale laughs, delighted by his outburst and Crowley kisses his face and eyes, and Crowley kisses him, and kisses him and kisses him until the giggles become sighs.

Crowley’s hands have travelled down to explore the new shapes of his angel’s body. He drags a gaps out of Aziraphale when he traces with a sharp nail over the border of his right tit and when the angel throws his head back because he is scratching lightly the ribs just besides the left breast Crowley takes advantage and bites his neck, below the ear and down, down; the place where Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple is no more, the place between his collarbones and the end of each, then down again until he is nested in the top of the valley of his breasts. Aziraphale’s hand find they place on his hair and scratch the right kind of hard with his perfect manicured nails, not to pull or push, just to anchor himself.

“You’re so soft and white, you’re like a marshmallow” Aziraphale giggles and pants “I can’t wait to get my teeth on you”

“No one- no one is stopping you, lover” Crowley then snakes an arm under Aziraphale’s soft waist and pulls him in, letting himself fall in between the silky pliant skin of Aziraphale’s legs. Crowley is not planning to enter Aziraphale yet, he knows how easy is to get lost on the movement of their corporations together and he wants to enjoy this surprise Aziraphale gave him. He doesn’t know when the angel will present female again and he is planning to make the most of it.

That means teasing the living hell out of Aziraphale.

Crowley sits up to look at Aziraphale whole, his ample waist and the rolls of his stomach, fatty and so soft, no longer hairy and firm and sturdy like a weightlifter, Aziraphale looks better than the paintings that Crowley has stashed away, they don’t make justice, not to his warm legs or his round soft arse, not to his soft middle, or to his heavy breasts or his round face.

Crowley cups with both hands the squishy meat of the angel ribs and drags them up, framing Aziraphale’s tits and Aziraphale moans in anticipation, arching up, presenting for Crowley and he can’t hold himself anymore. Aziraphale’s nipple rise to meet his tong and the angel moans loud and unashamed something that sound between Crowley and yes. Crowley laughs to himself with a mouthful of tit, feeling a bit like he is one of those hentai series. Then he lets go of the dark skin of Aziraphale nipple because there is so much more skin to taste, to mark and Aziraphale hasn’t been against him leaving purple marks on him. Crowley lets his mouth make a trail of love bruises from the breast he is tending to the other and Aziraphale bucks his hips against him and Crowley can feel the wet drag of his lips against his cock. Crowley grunts presses his length against him in a way that makes it impossible for him to breach the angel and it only manages to make Aziraphale more desperate for him. Crowley doesn’t think he can bear much more, not with his face pressed to the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s breast, not with Aziraphale so wet pressing against him, not with the little desperate sounds Aziraphale keeps making over him.

Is not long, when Crowley bites Aziraphale nipple to a red bud and pinches the other one with his almost burning finger, it’s not long when Aziraphale arches against him hard and stay still, his nails digging crescent moons on Crowley’s back, lets teeth sinking into Crowley’s neck his throat making a high pitched sound of need and satisfaction and Crowley can feel him come against him, his lips pulsing against Crowley’s soaked cock, and Crowley stops too, transfixed. He pulls back and Aziraphale gaze seems lost, his neck and cheeks are red, and Crowley can see the ink splatter of bruises on the angel’s breath before Aziraphale is moaning softly, coming down from his orgasms. Crowley can’t believe he just made him come just by foreplay.

“Oh- oh that was something.” The angel says dazed and Crowley laughs fond and feeling absolutely wicked and before Aziraphale can recover completely he pushed the head of his cock inside Aziraphale, just in time to feel the lasts tremors of Aziraphale’s orgasms. Aziraphale yelps, and hooks his legs around Crowley’s hips to pull him in or keep him in place, Crowley doesn’t know, but he won’t allow him any option, he pushes in, slowly and carefully and merciless until he is flush with Aziraphale’s hips and Crowley can feel the metal of the plug against his skin and all through the drag inside the angels body and oh, this’ll be interesting he thinks, leaning down to steal a quick dirty kiss from Aziraphale’s now pink-plush lips.

“You wear fat so nicely, lover… uhg, girl” Crowley says, sitting back up, sinking his fingers in Aziraphale’s rounds hips, letting Aziraphale get use to him, to his heat and stretch and weight. When he sees Aziraphale moving his hands to try to get a hold of him he pulls back and in in a shallow trust and the angels hands fall lifeless to his sides to grab desperately to the sheets. Then Crowley lets his hips do the rest, lets his hips pull him out of Aziraphale and in, feeling the firm pressure of the plug like the pad of a finger in the underside of his cock, listening to Aziraphale moaning and pants and Aziraphale is looking at him, past him and into him but only at him. The angel manages to lift a hand a pet the hair around Crowley’s face, tucking a strand behind his ear and his hair is a mess Crowley is sure of it, but he nuzzles against Aziraphale’s hand anyway.

“You were made to be looked from below, you were made to be worshiped, to be loved and admired” Aziraphale babbles, not aware he is speaking, and it ignites Crowley from the inside, his blood boiling with the need of pleasing Aziraphale “I’ll be on my knees for you every day, just you let me. I’ll take you in my mouth like a sacrament. I’ll drink you like mass wine. Oh, dear lord, Crowley!”

“You’re too coherent” he pants as an answer, almost falling forward into Aziraphale because having Aziraphale this close to him renders him unable to deflect compliments, and he’ll come much too soon if Aziraphale keeps talking to him like that. He does however, changes his angle and fits his thumb snugly below Aziraphale’s clit so with every thrust he pushes the little nub of nerves from inside and outside and lift one of Aziraphale’s now plum legs to his shoulder and bites a red angry mark on the softness of Aziraphale’s inner thigh. Aziraphale shouts

“Oh dear, oh god, oh Crowley! fuck!” Aziraphale screams and Crowley grits his teeth and fucks him though his second orgasms of that shape, lazy and loving and Crowley then lets his leg fall and grabs Aziraphale by the waist and flips them over, letting himself fall on his back against pillows that weren’t there previously.

“You seem to be enjoying this shape angel” Crowley pants waiting for Aziraphale to sort his limbs together, gasping and bracing himself against Crowley’s narrow chest “lest make you work for this last one” he says because he knows he’ll come rather soon and hopes to finish the angel with him this time. “Come on Aziraphale, make me come.” Aziraphale shudders to the words and incorporates himself receiving him deeper into his body. Crowley helps him pulling his tights apart letting himself even deeper into Aziraphale who whines and throws his head back.

It’s a picture. It’s the best goddammed thing Crowley has seen in his entire life, when Aziraphale starts to lift himself and fall back over Crowley. Crowley wants to tape him, paint him, sculpt him, it’d be easy, he just needs to summon his mobile and the camera would do the rest, but he need the permission beforehand. In the meanwhile, he satiates himself with the view of Aziraphale’s love bruised skin, of the bounce of his soft flesh and the rosy bloom of his neck and face. Aziraphale moans over him and change tactics, not pleased with his own pleasure, he moves forward, pressing his clit against Crowley flat belly, yelping every time, and Crowley allows himself a hiss, then buck up against Aziraphale making him shout.

Crowley sits up slightly and lets his hands wander towards Aziraphale arse, still bucking up against the angel who now has grabbed hold of one of his shoulders to level himself to Crowley’s trusts. With two handfuls of soft flesh he splits them away and Aziraphale chokes. Its too much, too much, Crowley need to kiss him, need to sink his teeth into his flesh, needs to taste his sweat again so he latches himself to Aziraphale’s neck when he finds his objective. The metal is skin-warm still parting Aziraphale body and Crowley circles it with a finger. It makes Aziraphale rubs against him harder, squeezing all his soft new body against him, falling against his wire body heavier. The plug is wet with the juices of the angel’s messy cunt and Crowley pushes it, just a tease, but Aziraphale wails, scratching his back and it hurts so, so nice.

Aziraphale is close to finishing again and he is close to coming too so he hooks his free hand around Aziraphale who is starting to sob against his shoulder. He pulls him closer trusting still shallow and slowly making Aziraphale rub against him uncontrollably and he pulls at the plug, not wanting to take it out, just wanting to make he angel feel and Aziraphale shudders and buck against him and away from him not wanting to be parted with the plug, then everything becomes desperate, Crowley is pushing hard against Aziraphale, Aziraphale golden pulse point jumping beneath his forked tongue, Aziraphale nails scratching at his back, at his scalp, and he is about to come, about to come, he hasn’t managed to get the angel off one last time and he is going to come when Aziraphale freezes above him after impaling himself on his cock as deep as he can get it. He lets his wings out, there is no sound to his scream because there is no air in his lungs and Crowley is coming hard and hot and Aziraphale’s cunt is a vice around him that pulses and throbs and Crowley knows he is growling something fierce but he doesn’t care. Aziraphale is full of his cum and satiated and Crowley would keep fucking him if he is not, Crowley would indulge him into eternity if the angel wished for, he doesn’t care about anything else but the being spreading his wings like a cocoon around them, learning to breathe again. There is a second, a moment of white delightful unconsciousness before Crowley is kissing the angel again, mouth open and wet and Aziraphale just seems able to take him, mouth slack for him and his uncanny tongue.

“My legs are pulsing” Aziraphale says after a while, he sounds detached and tired and Crowley grins.

“A cunt will do that to you”

“I feel so wet and sloppy”

“A cunt will do that to you”

“I want to taste it, but I can’t feel my arms” Crowley snorts at that and rolls over to his side, nosing his way into Aziraphale’s neck, between the mess that his hair has become. Then he teases two fingers over Aziraphale’s still swollen lips, past, to the plug that he turns counter clockwise, just because he can and back up to fits them in his well-used cunt, coating them in all the fluid he can find, pulls them out and dangles them in front of Aziraphale’s face. The angel opens his mouth, waiting to be fed, the absolute hedonist, but Crowley decides better and lowers them into his own mouth, he knows his own taste from previous affairs and can separate it from the flavour of Aziraphale, sweet and clear, like spring water. He knows Aziraphale is looking at him outraged but before the bastard can do anything, he is kissing him, letting him taste themselves out of his tongue. Aziraphale sighs into the kiss and its naughty, Crowley thinks, they are absolutely filthy and is perfect.

He sighs himself too and re-accommodates in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, his spot and tangle their legs. Underneath him, Crowley can feel the angel shift; his soft squishy skin getting tauter and his wings retreating to the ether and its fine, he wasn’t expecting Aziraphale to stay in that shape for long, he is grateful of the treat, and so he kisses Aziraphale’s neck with no other intention of saying thanks without actually saying it. The bruises stay in place Crowley notes smug and satisfied.

“It shouldn’t be this intense, Crowley.” Aziraphale says worried after getting his thought back “it’s only supposed to become better and better with time, what will we do?”

“Is that really so bad?”

“I don’t think it would be good for us if I feed only of your spit and come, Crowley!”

“Angel!”

“And you keep blacking out! And I keep slipping into showing parts of my true forms”

“Could it be?” Crowley says without thinking, he props himself on one elbow to have a better look at Aziraphale and his body, for the first time in the evening without wanting to devour him “could it be that it’s because this body is really yours and not an issued one?”

“You mean, because Adam made it for me?” Crowley nods emphatically but says nothing, waiting to see if Aziraphale think is a dumb idea or not “It feels cosier… like it’s mine, not just handed over… even if it looks just the same” the angel says, and then “You are so much better at being gentle than I am” it takes him by surprise and Crowley makes that noise he does when he doesn’t know what to say about a think he doesn’t want to hear but actually does. “But you are! Always gentle with me! And now, just today, the only time you were ever rough with me was because I asked for it, and you complied so thoughtfully, I may feel it for a week if I let myself hear at human speed, and what a treat that’ll be”

Crowley chuckles, because he is going to be sore for a while too and wouldn’t think of erasing or easing any of the little reminders of the evening, he yawns instead of answering anything.

“oh, dear! Do you need more sleep? I’ve worn you out already”

“I’m just tired, lover boy, nothing to worry”

“We should stop for a while… with the blacking out you could lose control”

“What? No! I’m not tired of this. I’m just tired in general. It has been a very demanding decade, and I think I’m not rested it enough yet” It seems to soothe Aziraphale because the angel is one again looking at him so softly, like he can’t contain in himself all the love he feels and it threatening to spill though his eyes.

“I want you to know, Crowley,” he says with a voice think with tears and Crowley can’t do anything short that rub his thumb over his cheekbone “that you have shaped my life. You gave me choice and voice. Just like you did for humans. That, even if you had surrendered your own choices to me, you have always been the only good constant by my side. I did not know who I was before you allowed me to seek it. I was told I should be something, that I was made for something but then you came along and taught me I that was not all of me. I did not believe you at first, but you also were something else besides what you were assigned for. I love you so much, Crowley and I love the way you interact with this world, there is no violence in you, even after all you’ve gone though, only chaos, which is frankly delightful after the rigid rule of heave. I don’t want to be apart from you, even for a second”

“Careful angel, that sounds dangerously close to wedding vows” says Crowley, there are tears gathering on the corner of his eyes and he will not let the angel see them.

“Well, there are many human customs we abide to, already. I don’t see why we couldn’t adopt one more… in time. And you were the one who wanted to elope.” Crowley makes a noise “And I’ve been thinking… to be honest I haven’t put much thought on it and it’s something very impulsive to propose and I know I have been the one to say that you go to fast and I would be contradicting myself and it's quite out of character for my persona but since I’m just doing things and not thinking about them much… but I really, really loathe the idea of parting ways with you after tonight, and what I mean is- I can’t bear the idea of sitting by myself on the bookshop counting the hours to see you again”

Crowley can feel himself smirking at his angel, clearly understanding what he wants to say but letting him stumble on his own words

“Go on, lover boy, keep talking, you haven’t said anything yet”

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, you know I’m trying to say that we should move in together!”

“I would love nothing more, love, but I just can’t live in the bookshop, angel,” he smirk wobbles around the edges even if he is happy, he wants to do this too but… “if I close my eyes, and its good I don’t do it often, really, when I close them, I can still see it burning, the flames, the smoke, the water, everything was orange, everything was hot and you weren’t there, you weren’t anywhere. It’s-it’s a big trigger for me, still trying to step inside it without freaking out and I hate it, that I can’t be there at peace, even more so now that winter is coming, and you like to light that cosy chimney you have”

“Oh, then… then I could always move in here, if you have me of course”

“Angel, I’m… I’m selling this place”

“What? Why?”

“This was my safe space, angel, it wasn’t much of a home but I could come here and let my guard down, like a bunker or a safe box all for myself and keep my things safe, but that day of Armageddon, gosh, that weekend was the worst couple of days of my entire existence, that day the flat was trespassed. hell violated my space and, because I was busy with them, I couldn’t answer you and then the bookshop got burned and I killed someone. I still can smell Ligur’s stank if there is a wind current. I just don’t feel safe in this place anymore.”

“I understand, let’s not think about that day” Aziraphale says and Crowley can see the disappointment, he can see Aziraphale reaching for the wrong conclusion and settling with it.

“Hey no, look at me. I’d love to live with you, it’s a bit rushed even for me, but I’ll do it in a heartbeat. It just can’t be here. Or in the bookshop. It’s- it wouldn’t be healthy for me… and I’m not saying you should leave the bookshop; you love it and I’m so glad its back, but. If you really, want to move in, together, that’s it, I mean, there’s- there’s a place I like. Its outside London but not far and there’s barely any other house around, barely light around it so you can see the stars at night, and walk around with our wings out…it was kinda named after me…” 

“You have a place in mind??” Aziraphale beams at him, his eyes brighter that the first sunrise and how could this creature believe he wouldn’t want to share his life with him.

“We could build a house? A nice cottage near the sea. The lot in Devils Dyke is not too far from what we have done here in the city… if you fancy of course.”

“Crowley! That place is lovely, that’s a lovely idea! And building it ourselves could give us a chance to balance each other, to no impose ourselves on the other space! We could have a big lovely yard where you can threaten your plant to your heart’s content, and a studio where I could keep my books! The ones that I really don’t want to sell, and a greenhouse and a kitchen and, oh dearest, I am already getting so excited!”

“we could have a lovely sex dungeon” Crowley says half mocking half serious.

“Crowley!”

“You said you liked leather! You want to make a kink list!”

“Crowley! what do we do with the dungeon when we are both not into sex?!”

“Dunno? yoga room?”

“We don’t do yoga, you snake!”

“I do! Who do you think made it a trend!”

“We’ll think about the dungeon/yoga room. Oh, Crowley I’m so excited!”

“Are we gonna have a happily ever after, lover boy?”

“We’ll work for a happily ever after, my love”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading and thank you for reaching the end of my story
> 
> I am a humble bisexual that has never had a gf I’m trying hard not to write like a straight cis male but if one of your characters summons breasts you gotta talk about them.
> 
> What have i learned:
> 
> I can write long multichaptered fics and finish them.  
> I will absolutely get ooc if i whind up with something this long again  
> i, over all, enjoyed this experience, even though i fough teeth an nails to finish this last chapter.
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this i cannot believe how much succes this had for a selfindulgent piece of smutty trash


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